Human After All - CLOSED SYOT
by Nineisgood
Summary: It's the 76th Hunger Games and it is time for people to do whatever it takes to survive. Tributes will die and they won't come home again. The rebellion is yet to come and another day's useless energy spent. People will die. It will be raw and sickening, but people will read it - because it's entertaining and there is still some hope.
1. I

**Welcomeeee. The tribute list can be found on my profile!**

* * *

There is still some written graffiti on a bridge right by the train station. People rarely notice the mark. And if you for some reason don't miss out the faded mark, you'll quicken your pace. You'll pull your coat closer to your body, not because of the cold, but because you suddenly feel like hiding. The reaction is inevitable.

It exists in several of this district, not the mark – but the reaction; the _idea_. It's an everlasting pain.

People tell themselves, they _convince_ themselves that they can live with this. They convince themselves that they won't forget about the losses, but every year as two tributes are shipped off to the Capitol, the memories of the lost tributes from previous years grow even foggier and faded.

Children, who's lives were lost – who was _promised_ to _never_ be forgotten, is now nothing more than a statistic. _A statistic._

1,749 to be exact.

All these parents' heart sank to their knees during their childs reaping. All these parents saw their terrified child off at the train station. All these parents heard the sound that signified their child's death. All these parents received their cold, dead child in a wooden box. All these parents' lives ended there. All these parents could say or do nothing. All these parents were merely thanked that they gave up their child.

_Thanked_.

This year, the year after third Quarter Quell, people are watching the recaps of the finalist of the 75th games. A fist to her head, _finally_, picking through the lead, who knows- the anxiety is rising… so one more in her eye and now the upcoming victor can breathe, pushing her off him.

People in the Capitol want to watch tributes destroy each other; watch people destroy something beautiful.

Arson. Assault. Mischief and Misinformation. No questions. No questions. No excuses and no lies. Trust the Capitol.

Since most of the last standing tribute's injuries never got a chance to heal, they've got nothing to lose in the looks department. His mentor, Glitch, got asked in the sponsor lounge what there was to do about the hole through the tributes cheek that never seemed to heal. Glitch had just laughed, saying that if the tribute were to drink anything, they could just put two fingers over the hole so it wouldn't leak.

The finalist's dirty, punched raw fingers is formed in a hold that gives the victim just enough air to stay awake. In the final battle in the arena, Adagio Rinzler from District 3 hit the face that was his final opponent. He remembered her. She was beautiful back before the arena, and he wanted to demolish every single detail that would earn her the trade of something beautiful.

First with the bony knuckles of his fist like a pounding molar, and then the knotted tight butt of his fist after his knuckles were raw from getting stuck in his opponent's teeth. Then, _finally_, to everyone's joy in the Capitol, the young girl fell through Adagio's arm in a heap.

When the new victor first met his mentor again, his mentor told him that head never seen a tribute destroy something so completely. _''You looked like a maniac, Psycho-Boy, where did you go?''_ That night, the Capitol knew they had to take the games up a notch or shut it down.

Don't think of this as extinction. Think of this as downsizing.

For thousands of years, before the Dark Ages, human beings has screwed up and trashed and crapped on this planet, and now history expected people to clean up after everyone. Everyone has to foot the bill for nuclear waste and buried gasoline tanks and landfilled toxic sludge dumped a generation before they themselves were born.

Adagio was angry.

He had held the face of his last opponent like a baby or a football in the crook of his arm and bashed her with his knuckles, bashed her until her teeth broke through her lips. Bashed her with his elbow until the skin was pounded thin across her cheekbones and turned back.

He wanted to breathe smoke.

And the weird thing was, as the announcement was made – the new victor didn't listen. Instead, he did what his grandfather had ordered him to do: He closed his eyes and pictured a world without a view. For a moment he was lost and blind.

And now as a victor he couldn't be saved. He was free, but he couldn't be saved.

The oddest thing just happened. Adagio Rinzler just became a statistic.

* * *

**How you join the SYOT: (It's pretty easy, really.)**  
**_1\. Go to my profile._**  
**_2\. Copy the form and paste it in a PM  
__3._** Take a moment and ask yourself the questions: Is this original?  
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**_4\. Fill it in and SEND!  
_**


	2. PB3

**DISTRICT 12 –  
****Mara Devlin, 14**

* * *

She was convinced she was alone, although, she certainly wasn't. Like many other people in her district she was a victim of the lack of food.

Or hope.

She thought she was alone with the feeling of her body burning; how she was the only one in the world right now who was experiencing this and how her body was slowly failing. It was cracking - it was hollow and haunted of memories of food. It was breaking down its own muscles and other tissues in order to keep her heart functioning. It was fighting for survival but she was dying.

Slowly but surely, just like the rest of her family, the tiny girl was going to stave to death.

Surprisingly, Mara did not share this fight for survival like her body. She was rather the enemy, stopping and blocking every attempt her brain was giving her to get up and get some food. She had locked herself in her room and she was going to stay there, curled up until she would stop breathing.

She was still thinking about her last words. It was a love and hate trial process and she just hoped that when the time had eventually arrived, she would have made her words right.

She was slowly dying- almost too slow. For the first time in her whole life, the girl found herself hating the season she was trapped in; it was keeping her just warm enough to not go numb.

If you were to walk into the abandoned house, located just by the edge of the district, the girl's pale skin and the dead eyes would easily have you fooled. The girl looked like a ghost, and she was hovered by darkness.

She thought she was alone, but malnutrition was a common feature to District 12. It happened every day. Mara was just selfish of her own suffering that she would not dare to think anyone else was experiencing the same pain she was.

The only reminder that she was actually still alive was how the sun suddenly found her left chin, and how the air she was breathing felt raw and sharp against her dry throat.

It was not surprising that when the time came, Mara's father took inspiration from the birds. There were moments where all he could see were small charcoal thumbs prints in the sky. And the man, pointing half mad with the decadence of them, choked out his last words ''look there, look there-'' But Mara couldn't see the birds the day her father died. She had been blinded by the sun.

Ever since that day, the daughter had stared up countless of times in the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of something similar to what her father had seen just seconds before drifting away. Her eyes stretched to the horizon- and anything beyond the horizon was invisible for the girl. It could only be imagined. She wanted to see the birds, but all she could see was clouds.

Looking back in the past is easy for a while and then when she loses herself in the past it gets murky.

The mother had passed away just a few months earlier. The sky was orange and there was cold snow covering the streets. The day she started coughing up blood was the beginning of the end. Her lungs became heavy, coal clogged and broken. She wasted away, until she succumbed to the miners curse. The peacekeepers took her body away the next day.

Mara remembered she wanted to yell at them. She wanted to grab them by their arm and yank them – but she couldn't bear leaving her fathers side. She didn't dare to let go of his hand. Both father and daughter, the only remainders of the Devlin family, chose to let the peacekeepers pass untouched. They had weapons and cruelty and the father and daughter had nothing.

When she had first realized she was on her own, Mara had lived by the guilt of being too late. She was too late to say goodbye, and if there was one thing she would know for sure, it was that that the worst goodbyes are the ones never said.

''Oh dear, is that..?''

The girl hadn't even noticed the new presence in the room until the lady spoke up. Her grey eyes snapped up to the sound and she stared at the visitor in shock, trying to decipher what was going on. She surely had never seen the woman before – and she had no reason to come here, so why-

''I'm from the Justice Building – we're looking for a house for a new family and… You must be Miss Devlin,'' the woman answered the unspoken question.

Mara couldn't quite hear all of the words the woman was speaking. The sounds were suddenly muffled and the energy to keep her focus maintained was beyond any hope to be rescued. However, the girl was able to find some sense to the woman's words – and it made her angry.

''You can leave. I still live here,'' she spoke, now glaring up at the woman from her small cradling form. She was met by confused and somewhat disgusted eyes… there was some fear in them too, probably due to the bony figure of the child in front of her.

The woman shook her head as if to clear her thoughts, then offered the girl a weak smile. ''You have to come with me. You could die here and I have food to give you and my husband-''

Mara couldn't let the woman finish. ''No,'' she whispered, words almost impossible to hear. To the woman's horror, the little girl starts shaking. It was not because of the cold, but because of the stress. All the stress was taking over her body and running through her veins – all because of the words that was thrown at her so quickly it was hard to process it all.

''_No_, I am not leaving. You can't make me go anywhere,'' she said, her voice hoarse. It hardly had any melody to it – it was almost a monotone voice, and it surely didn't fit to the tiny girl's innocent face. The voice was emotionless.

''I won't leave. You can't make me. _I won't_.''

Mara frowned hearing her own voice. She had not spoken in days, and now her throat was like sandpaper. She frowned even harder when she felt the woman's warm hand place itself upon her shoulder.

''Don't!'' she screamed, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to push the adult away from her, but it was all in vain. The lady easily picked the girl up, pulling her up to her feet. But the girl kept fighting, desperately trying to fight her way free.

''Don't touch me! Leave me be! I wan't to be alone. Don't you dare try to.. I don't want to- I... I don't...''

That's when tiny pale, skinny girl realized her mistake. She had used up all of her energy at fighting someone who was impossible to beat. Her muscles were giving up and her brain told her system to shut down.

And so, Mara fell unconscious into the big woman's arms, falling into deep slumber.

* * *

**DISTRICT 12****  
Vincent Gemignani, 18**

* * *

It's bizarre how something so simple could change in a matter of seconds.

The coal dust clung to everything, a grey coat for the District. The little house was coated in it, pots and pans, mirror and table, wardrobe and floor. Everything but the boy who lay in sheets that were free from coal.

He automatically woke up and it didn't take long for him to pull his clothes on. It didn't take long until he was out on the streets, rushing to catch up with the rest of his shift team. It didn't take long until he was covered in dust again.

Vincent was one of the best there is at what was consuming most of his thoughts. Most of the time, he was thinking about his mistakes. We don't all make mistakes, but some of us very specifically make mistakes, and others don't seem to make any mistakes at all.

As he lifted his bucket filled with coal for the third time, slowly carrying it over towards the minecart a few steps away, the boy couldn't help but remember when his mistakes had meant something to him. He thought of how sudden it all had happened. How he was caught off guard. How it now it was the reason he had these awful bags under his grey eyes and how he'd stay up till 4AM thinking about it.. what he could've done differently.

He lost his the arm in a mining accident.

Well, technically he did not lose the arm and technically it was a mining explosion. He wasn't even supposed to be in the mines in the first place. He was just hoping to see his father before his shift started. One wrong charge, one slip of one hammer by a poor worker too tired to realize he had done something wrong.

The explosion knocked the 18-year-old Vincent out, crushing him under a pile of debris. They had saved his life but there was nothing they could do about the severed nerves in his arm.

It was Thursday.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing their last song before nightfall and Ackio Coleson was yelling his lunges out like a medieval torture victim.

''Gemignani! We need a someone with some intelligence over here!''

All three of the small group of friends Vincent had were gathered right under the rusty old bridge the train always passed before entering District 12. All to his annoyance, he found Ackio laugh nearly hard enough to form tears by the corner of his eyes.

''What happened now? And I swear- if it's about _you__knowwhat _again I am leaving.''

Ackio shook his head, slamming his back against the wall before a huge smirk covered his face. ''No, no, don't worry. I'm saving that for another time.'' Vincent let out a warning growl to his friend, but Ackio ignored it, slamming his hands together.

''Actually, it's your brother. I think he's mentally insane.''

''_Hey_!'' This accusation made the person in question jump up to his feet from where he had been sitting on the ground, his finger now pressing hard against Ackio's chest as if to tell him to take it back, but Ackio couldn't stop grinning at his friend. Vincent who was only standing a good three feet away, however, burst out laughing.

The two Gemignani brothers were hardly any similar in their appearance and were rarely assumed to be related, but they were very similar in their personalities and their priorities.

''I'm with Coleson on this one, Felix. We all saw you go serial-killer-creepy just a few hours ago after the shift,'' Oliver, the third member of the crew speaks up, pushes his long black hair out of his face and gently tugged on Felix's sleeves, but this was to no avail, as Felix continued to try to push him off.

''He's right, you know. We're your friends. We can't merely sit here while you waste away, dreaming about a girl who clearly isn't interested,'' Ackio argues, earning rapid nods from his friend as they both glare at their hopeless friend.

Vincent was somewhat embarrassed of his brother – but despite this they still always seemed to get along. Neither of them was afraid of being honest with each other, and Vincent figured Ackio might not have been that clear – so he cleared his throat, determined to get the facts straight.

''She literally hates you,'' he continues on what Ackio had just said, giving his brother a quick glance. ''It's not healthy.''

They were both just trying to help their friend out, but Felix wasn't taking it very well. ''But there is something about her with that hair and soft and warm-'' _Oh great, here we go again_. How many times hadn't they had to put up with this bullshit?

Felix was already a goner. He was already making a list of all the perfect details of _Miss Perfect._

Pressing a hand hard against his face, crushing his nose in the process – Vincent groaned. ''Will you _please_ snap out of it?'' And for once, it was actually loud enough for Felix to come back to reality. Clearing his throat, a blush rushed up to his cheeks.

''What were you saying? I kind of… um… spaced out.''

Ackio rolled his eyes, finally giving in and joining the rather ridiculous discussion they were having. ''Yeah right. You were acting like a bloody 10-year-old,'' he huffed. ''Don't you get it? She's not into you.''

Felix smirked. ''Of course she is into me. All girls are!''

He winked at his brother before laughing at the disgusted expression he got in return. All of Vincent's reactions were always top quality and Felix always found them entertaining. There was just something about his face that made it very expressional - not to mention all those different frowns he was able to pull off… or how he always knitted his eyebrows together.

Shaking his head, Vincent closed his eyes for a second. ''You've really got to deflate that head of yours a bit. Cartwright even said so herself! Perhaps not the same way… In fact, she was much more blatant,'' he said, brushing some dirt off of his pants. ''So why won't you just give it up?''

It didn't even taking as much as three seconds for Felix to answer. ''Well clearly because I got the looks of the family, idiot.''

For once, Vincent found himself agreeing. If Felix got the looks, Vincent himself had surely got the brains.

* * *

**Mara Devlin's POV, 14**

* * *

It was the oddest thing feeling something actually fill the empty pit in your stomach after days of nothing but water. It's almost like you're aware of it inside of you. Like you can _feel_ it.

Mrs. Delta washed me, cleaned me, fed me and brushed my hair the morning of the reaping. I wasn't moving nor talking during any of it – all I did was to just stare at her. Even though my lack of attention was making it more complicated for the old lady to get the work done, it didn't stop her. Neither did it stop me from staring at her, trying to figure out why she did it. The glare was gone, but even if I would've kept my glare it wouldn't had mattered. She wasn't meeting my glance until she was done and it was time to go.

The dress was faded and worn at the seams, and from the small glimpse I was able to catch myself in the mirror, it looked sloppy as it hanged on my fragile body. It must've belonged to Mrs. Delta when she was younger.

She had stopped trying talking to me after the time she went over the edge, apologizing over my parents. She didn't even know them- so how could she possibly try to feel compassion? The truth was that she didn't even know their names. All she could possibly know about the Devlin family would be some notes on a piece of paper, forgotten somewhere on her desk in the Justice Building.

I've never really thought about the reaping. I wasn't even aware what day it was when Mrs. Delta came and took me away. I guess I just figured I would've faded away until the reaping… and even if I hadn't, I wouldn't have showed up.

Mainly because I wouldn't have the energy to do it, but mostly because the peacekeepers would've finished me off I hadn't showed up.

I like to stick to walls – I like to be at the outskirts of things, but as I was led to the pen where all the 14-year-olds were to stand, I was pushed right to the middle. So much for the attention.

It didn't matter which direction I looked over at, there was always someone there to meet my glance with terrified eyes.. although I could never quite figure out if they were reacting to my corpse-like body or to the reaping. The colorful escort was already talking with her high-pitch voice, but I wasn't listening.

It was all until the first name was called when I found myself pulled back to reality again.

It was a boy, not my age, but older – that wasn't the thing about him that caught my attention though. It was his _arm_. Staring at it, just like everyone else at the square, I was probably the only one who felt a rush of excitement as I took in the details.

His arm looked destroyed – black and blue and almost dented at some spots. He was a_ freak, _just like me.

So as my name was repeated by the escort I didn't even flinch. I didn't as much as shiver. As I shook his big, warm hand, I didn't hesitate a second. He surely did, probably afraid to break my hand. His eyes stared at me with tears ready to fall – but I didn't understand why.

_I welcomed it._

I welcomed my death, and so did I welcome _his_ death – and from the looks of it, he knew it too.

* * *

_**I'm sorry for the long chapter, I suppose i was just very eager to start all of this.**__**I know there is flaws and I am looking for a beta... Feel free to PM me if you'd like to help out. Anyway, here's the questions f**__**or future reference.**_

**1\. Honestly though.. Was it too long?**  
**2\. What was bad and what was good?**  
**3\. Any thoughts on the tributes?**

**_Thanks for reading :)  
/Nine_**


	3. 73SA

**DISTRICT 1 -**  
**Imogen Jewles, 18**

* * *

The old man stood in the rain. He was glancing up at the house where she grew up, now occupied by a new family. He hated the illusion the bright lights were giving him; that there was still life, even now years after his wife's departure. If you were to see the world through the old mans eyes, the world stopped 18 years ago. He kept asking the same question after all these years. _How could everything just keep going?_

A few tiny drops of the clear rain spills down his stubby chin. The man was fairly drunk, and much like the burning alcohol he had let himself drown in, neither that nor the rain could wash sorrow away. He had lost her. It was permanent because you can't bring people back from the dead.

Now he was left was a daily reminder of his wife.

The reminder; his daughter had been sleeping. Blue eyes had snapped open and lips had parted. Goose bumps was already formed on her forearms. Almost every night destiny turned her around in nightmares and violent shapes. The state of dreaming left her numb. She would be lying if she would say this rarely happens. Although she did find an escape as the years passed.

It was late night, it was raining, and Imogen was nowhere near done.

She reaches the centre of the training floor, already feeling the numbness from the nightmares disappearing. It don't take long until the simulation starts and she is soon surrounded by two rows of rotating green targets. One row was located around her waist and one in the same height as her head. Not only did they turn in opposite directions of her, but they also moved ridiculously fast. The observer could only guess she had modified the training program to make it more challenging.

It was mind over matter. She was concentrated on her goal: _Immortality_. Life is long when you have it all. She wanted the victory. Just the thought of it make her heart beat faster. There was no time for the life she was having. Imogen was not… fearless… She feared death. She wanted to live forever. She wasn't going to let life slip away. She was going to win a lifestyle she dreamed about.

Her vision was in a gold crown.

Throughout all these years of training, no one was taking it as seriously as her. When all you've ever known is training for the Games, you have to be like a diamond- Cold, hard, and strong.

The girl readies herself and begins to expertly punch and kick the targets, turning them red. The observer -her friend Gem- try to keep his tired eyes open. He was watching Imogen's training from up above in the small glass box where the trainers often spend their time during the day. His fingers are tightly holding the coffee mug and he let the third yawn escape as someone walks up next to him.

There was nothing more worse than getting attached to a career. Those months (if you're unlucky, years) you have together, you would try and fit a lifetime in them.. because you never knew if you would see those ocean eyes again, and if you would.. Would they stare right back at you from a coffin or always look hollow after their golden victory?

Her dirty blonde hair was tied up in a high ponytail, falling loosely over her back – constantly swinging back and forth as she moved around. Even when she was training Imogen somehow always seemed to be aware of her looks. She was still wearing a satin headband that tied back her hair and her makeup was clearly waterproof. If it weren't from her extreme kicks she would have looked out of place on the training floor.

Imogen was stressed out. Her boyfriend Declan hadn't been talking to her for two days now – something about the Academy jury having to stay away from the trainees and discuss who to send off to the games.

The new person who had just showed up at the observation deck turned out to be one of her family members. Colt gives Gem a pat on the shoulder instead of a greeting, sighing as they watch his little sister throw a high kick to reach one of the targets.

''She's still training at this hour, huh?''

Crossing his arms, the brother narrows his eyes down at the training floor. She mindlessly let training take over her life. Almost obsessed. Although, despite knowing this, he wasn't worried for her health. It was her choice to be here and it was not his business to try and interfere.

''Yeah. She's been like this ever since we got back from the last evaluation.''

Groaning, Colt glance down at his clock. ''You got to be kidding me, she's always been like this.'' Stealing a brief look on the door, he considers leaving. He could easily leave and she wouldn't care. She wouldn't even know he had been here in the first place.

Gem shrugs. ''Well, yeah. I mean- She never did know when to stop. But now it's like she doesn't know how to stop.'' He nod over to the blue leaderboard hanging on the wall a few feet away which was displaying names followed by their score. ''Always training.. I guess the leaderboard beckons.''

They both look at the leaderboard. Imogen's best friend Darcy is still number one and Imogen is number two. It was one of the other reasons Imogen was stressed out. Turning out to be _second_ best did not fit into her living. She had to be the best. Sighing, Colt scratched the back of his blonde head one more time as he narrows his eyes at his sister's friend. ''You know.. you don't have to watch over her.''

''I could say the same to you.''

The brother huff. If someone was supposed to watch over Imogen, it for sure would be him. In spite of the fact that he really didn't see the point in doing it, he tended not to. He was positive she could take care of herself. Imogen was a fighter.

''That's not really an answer.''

There was a silence between the two, and they looked over at the girl in question again. ''She can win,'' Gem mumble after a while.

The brother didn't meet the speakers glance, his blue eyes still locked on his sister. He disagreed. He doubted his sister would make it. Instead of saying anything he ignores the statement. Colt decided he was done.

''Don't stay up too late,'' he raised one eyebrow at Gem, slowly standing up. ''You need your rest.''

Little did he know Imogen had been aware of his presence from the moment her brother had walked into the observation deck. In the corner of her eye she had seen his shadow sitting there next to Gem. At first it had only made her angry – but after a while she just found the shadow working as a catalyst, pressuring to push her body harder. It was only when she saw him stand up and leave when Imogen suddenly felt disappointment crush down on her. She hadn't been good enough – so he had left. That was the only possible explanation she could come up with, explaining his sortie.

''**Round complete''** a monotone voice speaks loud and clear in the training room.

''Run it again,'' Imogen orders the machine, shaking her arms to loose some steam, preparing herself for the new round. ''**That last round showed a three-point-six percent increase-''**

Imogen shook her head, and the blonde strands of hair fell over her cheeks as she did so. She just kept thinking that she could be _better_; that she could beat Darcy. She was getting impatient. ''Just run it again!''

The simulation monitor obeyed, resetting training room floor, and Imogen start attacking the targets again. She completes it extremely quickly. Her muscles were pumping battery acid and her head was stuck on the goal she had given herself: to beat Darcy's score before the reaping.

She was the queen of gloomy disruption, which clearly surfaced when she spoke.

''Run it again!''

Gem lean back in his chair, pulling a hand through his buzzcut. He thought they both could use some rest, but here they were.. and like usual, they were probably going to stay here all night.

* * *

**DISTRICT 1 -**  
**Casimar Nelyn, 18 **

* * *

On.

_Off._

On.

_Off._

He was just sitting there, bored to death, finding his only entertainment in flicking his lighter on and off: _Repeat_. The brunette glanced over his shoulder at his friends who had left him once they got inside. He wasn't really complaining. They were the exact same people who mocked him for his average score on the leaderboards. He was just here for a break.

He needed a break from home too.

Casimar motioned for another drink and flicked his lighter again, watching the warm light dancing in his control. He thought back at the conversation he had with his uncle. It made him somewhat disappointed that his mother hadn't been the one to be there when he got the news, but she's was away on business in the Capitol… _Again_.

''_This isn't a real surprise though, is it?'' _his uncle had muttered, crossing his arms as they both sat down by the kitchen table – both being served some unknown, tasteful dish. _''You can't lose._'' Pause. '_'As you know.. we're not the mentors this year, but they already know you in the Capitol. You have the name to win.''_

After that, Casimar had just interrupted his uncle, asking him to stop talking about it. He had got the memo; he was to volunteer this year, or there would be consequences. It was already sorted out and no one else in the academy was allowed to step forward. It was the president's orders. It was either that or absolute _death_.

Not to mention the dishonour of the family and the name.

Caught up in his own thoughts, Casimar didn't notice the company he had earned. He jumped as the lighter in his hand was roughly snatched away from his firm grasp, killing the fire in the process. "Hey!" He exclaimed, turning around to face whoever the idiot was to challenge him.

"_Hey_," he repeated, less angrily when he noticed the familiar face.

Thinking about it, he wasn't sure why he was caught so off-guard by her. He knew Constance would be here. She was _always_ here... Not to mention she was an attention bomb. The girl who was probably the only one Casimar considered as a friend was now transformed, compared to how she usually looked during training.

Instead of greeting him, Constance knitted her thin, trimmed eyebrows together before slamming the lighter down beside his glass. "Stop doing that," she growled, sounding irritated. ''It's annoying.''

In a second, the lighter was in his hand again and his thumb was pressed down – enlightening it again. Although this time, he was reaching his firm arm out, holding it just in front of his friends face. Honestly, he wouldn't care if his hand accidentally slipped and burned some of her skin or her annoying curls. He couldn't care less for the girl in front him. There were very few people he cared about.

''What? Like this?'' he chuckled. ''You think this is annoying?''

He moved forward, she moved backwards. Together they made nothing at all. ''Stop it!'' she squeaked, jumping away from him.

''Aww, come on.'' He took his seat again, still holding the fire tight in his hand. Then he raised it to his face without any sense of fear getting burnt. His dark eyes never left hers as he let out a huff of air, making the flame disappear. ''…it's just some fire.''

Constance glared at the guy in front of her, crossing her arms as she realized how foolish she must've seemed – jumping back instead of just blowing it out like a candle. She was trying to come up with something to spit back at him, but she didn't find anything to say.

Grinning, he leans back in his chair. ''You look like shit,'' he stated, sizing her up and down for a second. Constance pathetic attempt of a superior attitude was just a joke to him, however, Casimar was not going to take any of her shit. She had chosen the wrong night to pick a fight with him.

He just feel like there was something evil in his veins. Maybe it sounded overdramatic, but he could _feel_ it. Whenever he lost his temper, he could feel like he was not in control. Not always, anyway. It was like when the horizon swallows the sun and the darkness spreads across his room and into his bones. So the only thing he know is the shush-quiet suggestions of a tiny little voice inside of his head – and he just have to sit there and will himself into stillness, into staying there, forcing himself to be calm.

He just doesn't feel normal when he's angry. He feels numb.

Sometimes he likes it. Sometimes he appreciates losing all walls and facades he has perfected over the years. Sometimes he just likes to let go and devour something.

Someone had showed up next to the two who was busy glaring at each other, waiting for one to take the first strike. The challenge was cut though when in the corner of his icy blue eyes, Casimar caught a glimpse of a filthy hand reaching for his lighter.

He was thinking irrationally and rather impulsive when he made his next move.

Grabbing the supposed thief's arm, now locked in an iron grip, Casmiar pushed the thief up against the bar. ''If those fingers as much as go anywhere near that lighter, I am going to break every knuckle in your hand, you hear me?''

Leaning closer to the idiot he could feel the strong smell of perfume on the man, and he was disgusted. ''I'll break all fourteen of them.''

Suddenly getting pushed off, Casmiar stumbles back and away from the thief and he was now able to get a face to the man. He could not be older than 30, which was no match for the 18-year-old. ''Back off!'' the guy snapped, pushing his way off the bar.

''Just so you know,'' the guy started, staring up at the tall Casmiar Nelyn. ''I'm not scared of you.''

It was all just a bunch of lies though. Casmiar was an observer. He could easily read people and see through their bullshit: mostly because he was a master of it himself. He decided not to make his move yet, just waiting for the guy to continue.

Failing to be convinced, he watches as the thief gulps, narrowing his eyes. ''…okay, maybe I am, but it doesn't matter.'' The quick change of attitude only causing Constance let out a low chuckle, later causing her to raise one eyebrow at her so called friend. After confessing his fear, the theif runs away from any further conversation or threat that Casmiar was building up.

Constance gives him a smug smirk. ''You're so f-''

''Shut up,'' he interrupted her, grabbing the lighter again, pressing it down and enlightening the fire again. Before she could even react, Casmiar held it close up to her face again – so close that she could even feel the small warmth radiating from the flame.

This time she blew it out, crossing her arms. ''Jerk,'' she muttered, growing even more irritated as Casmiar's laughter grew louder. And so, with just a huff of air, he killed the flame and walked away without a word.

* * *

**Imogen Jewles' POV, 18**

* * *

I broke my empty home singing along to the music. I clapped my hands and shook my head to the rhythm pumping through my body. I closed my eyes, feeling my sweaty hands clasp around his.

Declan told me that logic is a thing that I'll never know, but for this very moment, everything felt just right. It felt like a perfect last day. This was how I was going to be reborn. I felt beautiful. Unlike most girls with my looks, I knew people judged me by my appearance. After 18 years, I've learned.

I've also learned to love it. I've learned to grow aware of it and somewhat intrigued by it. I fall in love with myself and I want someone to share it with me. And I want something to share me, with me.

This was the last day I would apply my make up. It was the last time! The second I would become a tribute someone else would be doing it for me. My very own makeup artist, very own stylist, ready to make me look great for the chance of a lifetime.

I could hardly wait.

Declan hold my hand as he tells me the news. He tell me how the academy board didn't see Darcy fit for the games and that I would bring more to the table. He tells me how my test results had doubled in just a few weeks and that my cunning attitude was too impressive to just let it slide.

''Just remember what we've trained. Remember the plan,'' he continue. ''Use the other districts. They are easy to utilize and it will make you seem more affectionate and friendly to the citizens of the Capitol.'' Declan give me a hard stare as if waiting for me to comment. As if considering repeating what he just had said to make sure I've heard it. At first I didn't say anything. I just saw him, he saw me - he saw I wasn't planning on saying anything. I wasn't planning to thank him or ask him more questions. It was at that exact moment I knew I needed him.

''Well... Happy birthday then,'' he breathe against my lips, and I lean back and raise one eyebrow at him, a smile covering my lips. I would have this forever. It just seemed to fit so perfectly. Declan made me feel worthy. So utterly-

A door suddenly slammed open – making both of us jump away from each other.

It was my father, and he was angry.

Knowing my father, Declan was out of the room in just a matter of seconds, and no words were spoken during he rushed out of the door, careful not to nudge against my fathers shoulder in the doorframe. My father and I hadn't talked since Colt didn't come home for three days, and in which my father had asked if I knew where my brother were.

That was about one year ago.

During the whole time of Declan's exit, I never break eye contact with the stranger who was my father. It felt like we barely knew each other. We shared the same surname and DNA, but that was it. The glare he was giving me was broken as soon as he heard the front day close from Declans departure. He was suddenly rushing up towards my audio system, grabbing it with both hands before smashing it down. The glass scattered over the floor into a million pieces, and I just sat there, staring at him.

For a second I had forgot all about my father. I had just focused on myself and the fact that I was the confirmed to be the tribute for this year's game, and it would be confirmed within _days_. How could I've forgotten to stay away from my father on the very day I should? If I just had-

''How dare you!'' he yells, pointing his veiny finger at me, interrupting my thoughts. ''It's your _birthday_! I- You... Get out of my sight!'' But I wouldn't move. I was frozen, taken away by the fact that just seconds ago Declan had been right next to me, and now: _nothing_. My thoughts wander to Colt; wondering where he was. I almost immediately regret my thoughts. Why would it matter? He couldn't do anything. In fact, he would probably take my fathers side in this.

He had lost the mother, just like father had lost his wife.

They didn't realize I had lost her too.

''It was you. _You_, who I surely don't want to call a _daughter_,'' he spits, disgusted. He groans, pressing a hand to his forehead, walking back and forth in front of me. ''Every. Single. Day, Imogen! When.. When I look at you, I see _her_. I see what you-'' His words faded and his face grew cold. ''You're just a stupid kid who thinks you can do things. You.. You ruined it. You killed her. You killed your mother, _you hear me_?'' he boomed, slamming the door behind him before walking away.

The lights in the city faded, and I settled in my room. I decided to stay unnoticed on the remaining hours of my birthday. No one was stopping me from leaving.. but I felt tied down to where I was sitting. It was like my father's words had locked her body down, flicking some kind of switch.

I felt oddly calm as I rested on the floor, leaning my back against the wall.

_This was the last day_, I remind myself. And when I got back, I would be a victor. And maybe he would be proud. And maybe he could talk to me. Maybe he wouldn't mourn over her everyday. Maybe he would like to call me his daughter. Just maybe…

* * *

**Casimar Nelyn's POV, 18 **

* * *

They applauded for me when I volunteered.

The others in the district thought this was something I wanted.. Something I chose to do. But it never felt that way to me. No, it was not a choice. It was an obligation.

The president had done this.

It was not a problem to me. This was the Hunger Games and I was from a Career district. I was going to own this Arena and I was going to win. And I will come home as victor and I will _break_ whoever hoped for my cannon... Yes, I was going to win this. Obstacles cannot crush me. Every obstacle yields to stern resolve.

Somehow, orders kept coming, even though they were not from President Snow. ''Shake hands,'' the escort said with a low voice, making both of us snap out heads back to each other. We had both been staring out at the crowd taking in the cheering and applauding. There was this one girl up front who caught my eye..

She wasn't clapping, and I couldn't see a reason to why not. _Why_?

As I shook Imogen Jewels hand, I couldn't help but stare at her legs. The white dress teacup dress she was wearing gave the illusion of tanned legs. Not to mention the length and those high heels._ Damn_... Hopefully she would trip and break her legs in the Capitol.

Were we both born to fight? Yes, I like to think so.

I've seen her at training. I've seen her trying to overcome her second place on the board. Who would've known she would actually beat Darcy in the end? It was probably due to that friend of hers who was in the jury.. I highly doubt it was her skill with the axe. It was nothing compared to the sets of games I've seen when tributes from 7 worked their way through the games. She was nothing compared to them. Sure, she had probably worked with the axe for her whole training years, but the tributes from 7 probably got it shoved into their filthy, scrawny hands when they were kids.

Nevertheless, Imogen Jewels would die. She would die with an axe in her hand and that pathetic, fake smile she was giving our escort and the crowd below us would be wiped off. When she dies, she will be nothing.

''We'll come and get you when it's time to go to the train station,'' the escort instructed as both of us

In the end, anything I am looking forward to or anything I would normally miss will ultimately become absolute nothingness eventually. Because in the end that's all there is and I don't know if that comforts me or is actually just terrifying.

I've watched victors come back. I wanted to be one of them.

When I entered the room for my last time in the district before the train ride, I found myself eating some of the delicacies laid out on the table in the room. It was some of the sweets we created as a luxury item for the Capitol and some I certainly never had seen before.

This couldn't be the end, could it? I have fought a good fight in the training. I have finished the course with a medium score. I have kept the faith to the Capitol. _I had the name_.

I could be a one man army.

My fingers were just about to reach for yet another delicate macaroon when it was all interrupted. I heard the peacekeeper talking - mentioning the time limit. My mind turned decided to ignore the whirling thoughts that was bursting in my head when the door opened and my visitors entered.

My mother walked in, followed by her brother.

Not many words were exchanged unrelated to the Games or possible strategies. They were calm, just like me. They were repeating all those skills they had collected during their games, even though there was no need to. I already knew them by heart. I had grew up with their stories after all.

_I_ wanted to be the one to tell the stories. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to be a victor, who have been blessed to share my stories like my mother and uncle.

And when the last minutes starts ticking down, I offer a grin to my uncle – who beams down at me. Except for my mother, he was an key source of motivation. It's not because of his life of adventure and daring that I classify him as one of my inspirations; nor is it because of the critic he got when he first volunteered, even though it was not his games to claim; nor was it because of the money he spent or the secrets he kept. He was a man who knew his own mind and what he wanted.

''This will be the last goodbye, I swear,'' I say, and he nod in agreement - like we just made a deal.

As for my mother, she would not stop frowning. ''You are an Nelyn. You are a fighter,'' she spoke, her voice low, almost as if paranoid anyone else would hear but me. Her green eyes stared down me and I found myself staring back.

''So fight.''

* * *

_**I feel somewhat bummed out that I couldn't write about everything I wanted to write about in these introducing chapters about the tributes. I'm just happy I'll get to write more in the future chapters. Hopefully you readers will enjoy the remaining introductions/reapings.. oh, and I have to mention that I am still looking for a beta and that I'll do by best to go back and edit the chapters flaws.**_

**1\. Any feelings on chapter numbero two?**  
**2\. Thoughts on the tributes?**  
**3\. Did something in the chapter remind you of anything else..? (Hint hint.)**

_Until next time - go outside and take in the spring._


	4. L97B

**DISTRICT 11 –  
****Appoline Krane, 14**

* * *

''You don't want to talk to me?''

The Krane family was big, and most of the children shared bedroom. The two youngest, Charmer and Aaryan shared a bed, as did Loressine and Jessabelle. The two boys shared the small room downstairs, and as for Appoline, she had her own bed next to her youngest siblings.

It was a crowded room and most people would find it impossible for five children to share the small room, but Mr and Mrs Krane were persistent.

He stomped his boots before entering the small household.

Appoline's brother, Darron Krane, who was the oldest of the family already had age marks covering his features, including a faint wrinkle on his forehead and grin marks around his think lips. He was standing above his little sister's bed, where she had now been sitting for approximately 2 hours with the same book held to tightly by her small hands.

Unlike Loressine, who was sitting across the room joking around with Jeremiah, the reader's hands were cleaned. She had been very strict with her book, making sure it wouldn't get in any worse state than it already was.

Its bindings was used and bent, some parts of the cover had been scraped off, most pages had marks from being dog-eared and if someone was to open it pages would fall out. Some people around Appoline's age would argue that it is silly to say that a novel can change someone's life. They would argue that fiction is simply fiction and that there is nothing more to it. But what is a book to one person may be an alternative reality to another. It may be that person's only sanctuary.

''Why?'' her brother pressed, but Appoline kept her eyes narrowed down at the small letters.

She had been struggling with the book for a while now, trying to make any sense of the chapter. She wasn't a slow reader, but in this chapter it just so happened to introduce a new character who used very difficult words the reader herself had never seen before.

''She's probably mad about her dropout again,'' Jessabelle spoke as she pressed herself into the room from the tiny crack of the door. She brushed her overall off, starting to pull on her bun to let her hair loose.

Even after the possible answer provided by his other sister, Darron kept his eyes steady on Appoline, who was still ignoring him. He was waiting – although he wasn't very patient.

''Fine, I'm leaving!'' he groaned after a while, only causing Appoline to huff.

Turning around, he crossed his arms. ''What? Why are you so upset over school? You know that Aaryan wouldn't-''

Appoline stopped listening.

She always learned a lot from her father: that the sorrow you get labelled with becomes a part of you. And it's because of that sorrow, which is acting like a tide - surprising you with moments when it comes up to the surface and crash down on you with such remarkable power you're close to letting it pull you back with it – that you are reminded that it still happened, even though you think so much time has passed. Even as the years come and go, it's still there.

But just like it acts like a tide, it also works the other way around. It withdraws, and that's when you realize that you actually find yourself standing steady on your feet.

Appoline always have a lot time of her hands to think things through, debating the rights and wrongs – the betas and the alphas… She loved her little brother. There was no hesitation in this small, simple fact. She loved him even though he was just an infant. She loved him even though he was always in the centre of attention. It was something she had gotten used to, just like she had grown used to the nights she couldn't sleep because of a baby's crying.

She loved Aaryan, but she still couldn't help to blame him from her dropout out of school.

School had been one of the things that made her stood out. Her grades made her feel proud over herself, but when the sixth child of the Krane family was born she had to stop and mainly focus on working out on the fields so that the able would be able to survive.

She would never be fully educated, and even though this was a common thing for District 11, it made her feel horrible.

Aaryan would start to work too. He would have to give up his life for the exact same cause. He, just like Appoline had, would carry tools to the people in the fields. As he would grow bigger they would put more work on him. Tougher work, like carrying baskets back to the collection station, which sounded easy at first, but his wrists would eventually give up.

Jeremiah who had just started climbing the trees had been somewhat of an refresher for Appoline. Even though she was one of the most efficient workers in the district, her brothers new company made her happy.

''It's nothing,'' Appoline shrugged, shaking her head. She took a deep breath, preparing herself before she looked up, staring long and hard up at her brother to prove her words to be true. She knew he wouldn't leave until she convinced him to.

Having his eyes bore down at her, she felt herself losing the fight as the seconds passed. Desperate, her fingers clenched harder around the book.

''It's _nothing_ – okay?'' she repeated, this time more rushed and stressed. Darron frowned, realizing his mistake.

His little sister had already been stressed out by not being able to decipher the book in her lap, and he had only made her even tenser questioning her.

''You can take the loft tomorrow night if you want. I could help you carry the mattress,'' the older offered after a while, hoping it would ease her stress. It didn't take long until the girl's dark blue eyes snapped up to meet his, and a grin quickly covered his face.

Appoline always though her brother looked crazy when grinning; his smile was always too big for his face, but she didn't complain. She needed his smile how he brought a sense of peace into the house. There wasn't very much time for laughing in the Krane family.

* * *

**DISTRICT 11 –  
****Beckett Scott, 17**

* * *

Beckett Scott had multiple bruises covering his rough and not at all soft skin. 17 years had passed and he was now carved out of wood.

The one around his eye:  
_Work._

The one across his chest:  
_He lost a fight._

The one upon his back:  
_Peacekeepers._

The one that wraps his wrists:  
_He can bear._

The one he hides:  
_ Evading._

None of them seems to fade.

He was part of a war and the day it would end he would be free. At least that's what he told himself.. Beckett didn't expect to be free anytime soon. He, just like everyone in District 11, was isolated and trapped within the walls surrounding them. He had tried to live the way they wanted him to. A 14-year-old Beckett Scott never needed proof – he never needed a reason not to follow orders. He just followed the rules.

He once saw a fragile little girl fall down to her knees, dropping all her apples in the mud. She didn't go unnoticed, nor did her apples. The peacekeepers were next to her in just a matter of seconds. The younger Beckett had acted as a bystander back then. He himself had dropped his heavy lifting countless of times, but it had never got ruined by the mud. And he was after all mostly just carrying tools other than actual harvest.

''She_ fell_, it wasn't her fault!'' he had wanted to scream at them, but he couldn't get any further than opening his mouth until he was stopped. An old man grabbed onto young Beckett's shoulder, pushing down hard as he hissed into the boy's left ear: _''Keep your voice down!''_

Despite his silence, the boy would not stop staring.

He saw the girl get dragged away – and all he could do was to pick up his box of supplies that he had dropped and move his feet as fast as he could. He was different back then. He was always falling behind, just floating in the lines of the harvest collections.

His confidence faded with the youth.

At the end of that day, after seeing the girl his age (if not younger) pulled away by peacekeepers, Beckett had ran out to the fields. He had been greeted by a wave of heat. It blew against his face, sticking to his skin in a scorching mess of sweat and light. He had squeezed his eyes shut and taken a deep breath, taking all of it in. It was only when he could find himself breathe again that he realized he was late and he started to run again. The yet not strong body protested at the amount of exercise under the sun but he pushed through and he got home in time before the curfew.

There are many differences between that boy running his legs weak and the guy walking with a slow pace over the town square. They did however still share some things. Some things were hidden, but they were still there. Like the constant questions about his mother who was always ignorant about everything going around her.

_Why would she turn her head at everything remotely wrong?_

He still hadn't figured out she was just trying to stay invisible. The only one who still saw her was her son, and she wouldn't even meet his glance.

Now, standing tall with broad shoulders and hard look fitting perfectly on his sharp face he found that he always get less than what he wanted. Is this what your life is waiting for? This routine? This life?

Sometimes the working out in the fields changed. Usually it involved the Games. Two years ago, a twelve year old girl was brutally killed. She was one of the Akanoto's daughters. Beckett didn't know much about her – he rarely saw her – but he knew she was one of the tree climbers. Beckett himself was too big to climb the slender branches, so it was mostly just kids. People like Beckett lifted the barrels and cleared the land.

Despite his lack of knowledge of the girl, he did notice the mourning that lasted for months.

His co-workers worked silently in the fields, picking through all the orchids. Usually, people sang songs as they worked or exchanged pleasantries... It was different after the young Akanoto's death. People's minds were elsewhere: in an arena where one of their own would now never come back.

Above Beckett's head, birds flew through the branches of the trees. Everyone stopped to watch as they glided over the fence into freedom.

They worked for 17 hours that day – and as he started to make his way home, it didn't take long until Beckett ran into obstacles. It didn't even take as long as 10 minutes until he was coughing up blood for the second time this month.

It started with a worker, much like the worker he had seen three years ago – only this time it was an old lady who was struggling to keep her basket of oranges above her waist. Beckett watched all of it happen; history repeating itself. Although this time, Beckett changed his actions.

''Please don't. I have to collect this or my husband won't be able to-'' the old woman begged, but no mercy was offered to her.

It crawled through his vein like a fire, like one of those common diseases half of the district suffered from during cold seasons – and it didn't come out. The fire wouldn't leave him, instead, it would spread and make it's way to his fists, clenching them and making his knuckles burn. This was ignition what not of his own doing, although he didn't want it to stop. He did not want to be a silent observer anymore.

_Who the hell did they think they were?_ His mind screamed over and over again. Intermittently he thought of his father. ''Don't,'' someone said behind him, and that's what triggered the fight.

He didn't stop to see who it was. He just turned around and decked them. After that the rest of the crowd stayed away. The peacekeepers on the other hand didn't. The two who was closest to him crushed his nose with the back of their guns, and almost instantly the blood began to pour down Beckett's nose.

''This is your third warning, Mr. Scott,'' one of them threatened, already familiar with the surname. ''Two more and we take you to the cell for a week.''

He didn't say anything as he walked away from them. He tried to tilt his head back to stop the blood from ruining his already covered shirt, but as soon as he did the liquid iron jus started to drip down his throat. It created a disgusting taste and his whole body lunged forward, coughing it up.

He was having an inner vendetta; it just hadn't set off just yet. He was still trapped in the world of the district, unaware of the rest of the nation.

It was their entire fault - all of that army of peacekeepers. After all, they condemned the people of District 11 to this way of living. And Beckett made himself a promise. He was going to kill every last one of them.

* * *

**Appoline Krane's POV, 14**

* * *

When the lights go down, I settle in my room – unnoticed.

It's odd - because I feel calm. There is hardly any trouble in the district the night before the reaping. For once, it is silent. I close my eyes and for once I could think.

Just earlier during the day I had worked until I couldn't feel my fingertips anymore, side-by-side with Jasmine. Even though the work had been exhausting, Jasmine was fairly talkative today. Usually she would just try to find birds's nests instead of working, but today she wasn't smiling. It shouldn't have come to much of a surprise. Most people didn't smile around this time of the year. In fact, some people started to grow anxious the week before.

For some that time from last years reaping was short. It was like the second you let yourself relax the beautiful escort is back with her big fancy costume and hair. As I had tried to remember the last year's outfit, the wind in the trees had started pulling on the leafs surrounding us, creating a soothing hum.

''Everything is moving all the time,'' I had complained as I climbed further up the tree I was working on. Now thinking back on it I am not quite sure how she interpreted my small protest, but she surely must've found some further meaning behind the words I had actually meant by the time being.

''It's okay to be stationary,'' Jasmine had uttered, right out of the blue.

As Jasmine had spoken I had not been able to find her face. It was always hidden behind that big set of dark hair that she never seemed to find enough time to tie up. I was usually wearing a headband and my hair tied up – but she wouldn't bother.

When the shift was over for the day and we said goodbye, her words were still printed on the back of my head. I just didn't know how to convince myself that what she was saying was true.

I never had to walk home by myself. Usually Jeremiah would join as a company, but this time I couldn't find him. He was probably off pranking someone with his friend Marx. Still, I found someone to walk with.

You never really want to walk home alone anyway – taking it that there were peacekeepers roaming the roads and streets pretty much everywhere. And even though the person I found was neither a familiar nor a person very high on my list, I decided to stick with him anyway.

He seemed somewhat taken back when I jogged up to catch up with him, but welcomed me with a nod.

His name was Jonas and he was one year older than me, although he acted more mature than my oldest brother. His family didn't live very far away from my house, _I think.._

Jonas used to be a friend of Jasmine, but one day he had just stopped talking to her and she had later found herself talking to me instead. It was only weeks later when we heard about what had happened, and by then it was too late to ask him.

For some strange reason, I didn't have to ask this time either. He just shrugged, burying his hands into his pockets before opening his dry lips to speak.

''It's been 11 months,'' he muttered, kicking a rock in front of him - making it jump off the dirt road we were walking on.

''Since the accident?'' I asked, and he nodded. Gulping, my fingers trail the hem of my dress and I try to avoid eye contact. Who would've thought he would talk to me out of all the people he knew? It wouldn't be a surprise if it were Jasmine, but me? It didn't make any sense.

''How is life without your best friend?'' I ask, finding myself regretting the question the moment it left my mouth. It's just that I wanted to know the answer so badly. It was rude to ask but I had grown tired of not knowing.

Jonas, however, didn't seem to notice my regret. He just sighed, narrowing his eyes at the road in front of us. ''She wasn't a best friend. Or rather, she wasn't just a best friend,'' he started, frowning.

I was now blushing because I didn't expect him to be honest with me. He was not even finished yet. You could see it in his eyes he had a huge urge to just explode with words, but he stopped himself and kept himself contained and concealed.

''She was more than that,'' he continued. ''Like a sister, you know?''

Chucking, he shakes his head. ''Sorry, I'm just rambling. I didn't understand, you know? Family is important.''

I didn't answer. I just nodded, wishing him good luck on tomorrow before rushing over to my house, desperately trying to escape from any further conversation or rather confession with Jonas. Not to mention my embarrassing blush giving away how uncomfortable he had made me feel.

The sky was orange and the sun set a few minutes I had shut the door behind me.

When I lay in bed, knowing I should be sleeping, I just end up laying there mostly thinking about my siblings' laughter, their smiles and how I haven't gotten to experience them in a very long time. I am happy I have them. My family is important to me, and sometimes I find myself forgetting about them.

Just like Darron had promised, he had helped me carry the mattress up to the loft. We usually never spent a night sleeping up here. Mostly because we were used not sleeping alone, but mainly because of the cold temperature offered.

He promised not to tell mother and father, and even if they did know I would spend my night up here they wouldn't stop me from doing it. My mother was a woman of respect, and she valued independence. She knew I needed privacy, and I was grateful for being left a lone for a while, even if it would just be for a night.

Just because I don't have any problem with being by my own and taking care of myself does not mean that I enjoy it; that I for some reason would prefer it. I've just learned that sometimes people can't always be by your side.

There was only one window here on the loft, and thankfully the moon was blocked out, turning the room coal black. For once I enjoyed being blind. It made it easier to think.

This particular night was different. This was the night I always reset my questions and worries before the reaping, just in case someone I know leaves. There was so much things I knew I would never get to do in my life, and that some were still within reach: I just had to reach out and grab it.

Physically, I couldn't get much farther away from my possibility on coming back to school, and it wasn't Aaryan's fault. Sometimes it feels like my mother and father found a way to make it feel even further away. It wasn't their fault either.

But I still feel it.

I guess I should let it go. I guess there will be a point where I will decide to stop trying, maybe because it's too late or because I found something else. Although, I've never been a big fan of replacements… my family was filled with replacements – my whole district was. If one were to fall, someone would take their place. Just like Darron took a fallen tributes place after anticipating in the last years games.

I hardly make my own schedule. And I'm so very tired all the time. It always seems like the plans are always made for me. I make very few choices in my own life, and I can't seem to find a way to be the one who gets to decide. Either I am too young, too selfish, too quiet, too loud etc. There was always something blocking me from doing something _I _wanted.

I need more time.

Time was so short. Time in school. Time at home. Time to sleep. Time to just be me. Time to do nothing in particular. My time was running out too fast – and I thought I had more, but the reaping just ripped the time away from my body like it had always belonged to them.

* * *

**Beckett Scott's POV, 17**

* * *

''He's asleep. Go to bed.''

My mother's droopy and red eyes glared up at me as she was desperately trying to keep them open. She was probably struggling and fighting with her sleep again, although it wasn't because of the reaping. She had gave up on showing up to them when I was 13.

I wasn't going to leave that easily though. I had to talk to her about how he had been acting this morning when he told me to borrow his suit. ''But he was –'' I urged, but I didn't get any further than that. She was already interrupting me.

Neither of my parents was very talkative. My father was an bastard and my mother was pretty much a ghost, always acting distant. She would, however, talk to me about my father. She was always claiming that I had to learn to live with him and that I was acting foolish.

Maybe she was right, but I was not going to stop anytime soon.

''I _said_ .. go to bed,'' she hisses, clenching her fists, but I wouldn't move. I leaned closer to her and the door, trying to get a closer glimpse of the bedroom they shared. I was trying to figure out if it was safe for her to go back in there. It certainly wasn't if he was still awake.

As if being able to read my thoughts, my mother pushed me back and away from her. ''He will not harm me,'' she insisted, rather toneless with almost no hint of emotion to it when doing so. Then, clearing her throat, she hung her head low, staring down at her feet. ''But thank you.''

She must've noticed my bruise on my jawline, because she decided to discreetly close the door behind her, close to making no sound at all as she placed her small hand on my back and led me towards our kitchen.

''Let me take care of that for you,'' she mumbled.

I was sat down on one of our chairs and she started to boil up some water. While waiting, she wouldn't meet my eyes; avoid all kind of awareness about my presence. This was how she acted most of the time: like I didn't even existed. It was only when she first pressed a stinging warm tissue against my cheek that she spoke up again.

''We've been through this before, remember? The last time your father acted like this..?''

I sighed, closing my eyes. ''I know… I know he had a bet with some guy to be 'the best father in the district'.'' I huffed as if it was a joke, but kept my eyes closed. ''I mean, it was the first time he ever actually _talked_ to me,'' I continued, hoping she would understand what I was trying to say: that I had been fooled and that I had actually liked being the fool.

''But you knew he was going go back to his regular self. Why would you start to believe he would stay like that?'' she challenged, sounding annoyed as she pressed the damp cloth against my sore skin again, trying to wash it.

She wasn't trying to be gentle – she moved fairly quickly, showing her annoyance. She was probably upset I was going to show up to the reaping looking like shit. Oh, little did she know most children at the reaping looked like wild savages.

''No, that's the thing. I didn't know.''

It was after I said this that she stopped. Opening my eyes again I could see her turning away from me, suddenly rushing to clean up the mess she had made with the pot and the tissues. ''Mother?'' I asked, but I didn't get any answer.

The next day, like expected, I didn't show up in a suit. I was in a pair of slacks and a somewhat dusty button up tucked in. Most people around me had tears in their eyes, and if not, they certainly wasn't looking brave. Some people were just better at hiding the fear.

Not that I was the one to judge. I was nervous too. The guy next to me kept tapping his feet. There was a lump in my throat that had been there ever since this morning in which I had had an apple for breakfast, not to mention the cold glare I had gotten from my dad before leaving.

''_War, terrible war,_'' the video started playing on the big screens next to the Justice Building, but I kept my eyes locked on the shoes in front of me, still muddy from yesterday's work.

It was only when the female tribute was first reaped that I found myself distracted from my stare. I looked up to see who it was. The girl, coming out from the 14-year-old section was not easy to miss. She was one of the few residents who wasn't ethnic. Her skin was tanned, but nowhere close to the girls surrounding her.

As she stumbled towards the stage, I stared at her back. She was wearing a white dress, with pink dots covering it. Even though my sight wasn't the brightest, I did notice the blonde patches of hair found in the strawberry blond hair.

When the girl reached the stairs she fell, making a few gasps emerge in the crowd. No one could help her up though. Soon enough two peacekeepers lifted her up by grabbing her elbows rather carelessly, and even from afar you could her a small whimper escape from the girl.

I could hear a growl next to me, but I didn't turn around to see who it was.

''And now, for our male tribute,'' the escort continued after the escort, who looked even more ridiculous than last year. The woman's hair was no where to be seen, but instead overed by a weird cube he would only assume could be a hat. It basically looked as if someone had taken a cube and smashed it onto the lady's big stupid head and covered it in some colour making her look like a complete-

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted when a firm smack on my back made me gasp for air at the sudden impact. ''Go you idiot. _Move_,'' I could hear someone snap behind me, so I just started moving.

It was only when I was standing next to the girl up on the stage when I realized what had happened. I was going to the Capitol. I was a tribute of the Hunger Games.

Up close I could see the girl's features a bit more detailed. Her sharp cheekbones had small freckles that spread up to her grey eyes and for some reason her arched eyebrows were frowning at me.

One other detail I noticed was that her dress was not white like I thought it had – but it was just faded. It had probably been passed down in the family. Who knows how many times it had been worn?

''Well look who got themselves reaped!'' one of the peacekeeper snickers as I find myself dragged backwards and into the Justice Building. ''I hope it's brutal this year,'' he continued, and before I could do as much as find momentum for my fist or to find something to aim for I was pushed into a room.

I was alone for about 3 minutes until the door opened. I didn't expect anyone to come and see me, unless someone who worked the same hours as me were just trying to act polite, but as my mother walked in I found myself caught off guard.

''Hello, Beckett.''

''What are you doing here?'' I asked, taking a step back and further into the room – away from her.

I never shared a tear as she repeatedly continued to close and open her mouth, failing every attempt to find anything useful or meaningful to say. She was probably here to escape the guilt she would feel later when I was gone, but it was already too late for her. She would never be a good mother.

The second my time with my mother was up I was pulled out by the peacekeepers again. The girl, Appoline was crying silent tears as she was guided out of her room. I felt an urge to talk to the girl, but I had to sort out my last priorities before we left. I sighed when my mentor finally showed up, hurrying up to her.

I grabbed onto the old victor's arm, pulling her close. She looked afraid and almost ready to attack for a second, but stayed put, waiting for what I had to say.

Staring into the close to back eyes of my future mentor, I narrowed my eyes at her. ''For future reference, I don't really want to see any of my family members when I come back home.'' I was going to kill people. I needed to make sure they would listen to my request.

''In fact, I don't want any type of visitors, got it grandma?''

She glared up at me for a long time, shaking her arm loose from my grasp to free herself. Taking a step back, she brushed off her blazer. ''You're acting dangerously confident, kid,'' the mentor grumbled under her breath, and I gritted my teeth at what she was saying. She clearly hadn't been listening.

Whether I could come home crowned or expecting a funeral, I didn't my father or mother anywhere near me. ''Either way I am coming back to this district, I don't want them to see me, understood?''

''Understood.''

* * *

**_I'm sorry I haven't got a chance to edit it, but I promise that I will have it somewhat pulled together and fixed in 24 hours :) I am also very glad to inform you guys that District 2 is already finished - so the wait won't be as long (!)_**

**1\. Any feelings on District 11?**  
**2\. Thoughts on the tributes?  
**

_Please feel free to add a song of your choice to the review!  
Until next time - A sante sana, squash banana, we we nugu, mi mi apana._


	5. FtS2

**DISTRICT 2 -  
Dagger Steele, 18**

* * *

Year 2278. We have engaged in a war, one that may determine the final fate of mankind and the survival of our species. Living around hostile environments, humanity faces unprecedented dangers and overwhelming odds, all which threaten to end us.

Project Peacekeeper was created to prevent that.

**We are humanity's last hope. We are peacekeepers.**

All of this was pretty much printed on the back of everyones head in District 2. Even though the citizens were spread out over the district into smaller communities, the word was clear for everyone to take in. The Capitol was their leader and there was nothing else to it. They had done the right decision to fight amongst the Capitol during the rebellion and the Dark Ages – unlike the other districts, who was now hanging close to a cliff.

Every child, parent, and grandparent – _everyone_ in District 2 was proud of the past. They celebrated the history they had made. Everything their grandparents had done served to glorify the nation that is Panem.

"It is an undeniable, and may I say a fundamental quality of man, that when faced with extinction, every alternative is preferable," the colonel shared his last words with the recruits standing in manoeuvre in front of him. After giving them a nod, making them repeat the Peacekeepers oath, he simply walked out with the same cold face he always wore, followed by his second commands.

Most peacekeepers didn't know half of the stuff the General did. Sure, they sure were educated for war, but they nearly knew nothing about what was really happening around them.

They learned daily that Panem was full of criminals, breaking the Capitol's laws. District 2 was there to save it. Just like during the Dark Ages, the citizens of the districts stay as loyal as ever. The trust given to the Capitol is not going to fade anytime soon.

Most of the children are glad to accept the recruit order that is sent out at a young age. Some parents even send them to the training facilities before the children themselves have enough words to speak.

There was several cases of criminal activity throughout the whole nation. People were wanted for resisting arrest, aiding escape beyond Panem and for multiple counts manslaughter at the Capitol's expense. The peacekeepers were told to shoot on sight if they were to find the high-value targets. They were to approach them with extreme caution.

There were some exceptions for the peacekeeper training though. Some people got the chance to train out for a tribute spot. Dagger still remember the letter he got sent home from the Academy.

_They turned you into a soldier, but we can make you into something better. Project C._

And so far they were right. So far, Dagger was an experienced pilot, an exceptional marksman and very close to a perfect tribute to follow in the Games.

''The list changed again.''

Jace sighed as he brushed some dust off his uniform, neatly folding it in his bag before glancing over at his best friend. Both of them had been active in the academy since they were eight, and they were already being scheduled for peacekeeper duties.

While Dagger was already done with his hovercraft training, Jace was still struggling to finish it. Despite this, they were still ready on paper to get shipped off to different districts as soon as they were out of the reaping age. Unless, of course, they were to volunteer.

Dagger was planning on volunteering – his best friend on the other hand was still deciding.

The two boys both watched the list as it got updated once again this week. It was a list of open or requested spots for peacekeepers out in Panem. District 11 and 8 was always on a high demand and lately Jace had got specific training set out to District 11's environment. The two best friends already knew they would be separated. If Dagger was to work as a peacekeeper, he would probably end up in 5 or 6.

''Yep, lots of things changing these days,'' he mutters, cracking his spine before walking over towards the lockers. They had just had a training session about uprisings and the simulation had been very convincing.

Jace pulls out one of his old helmets – one that was used months ago. Looking at it, he watched the cracked glass from the bullet and the blood splatter over the left side. Shaking his head, Jace tosses it in the trash.

''I think we've got more change on the way.''

''Huh?''

He decided not to say anything until they left the locker-room, but once they were out, Jace decided to keep going. ''I felt it since Colonel Casey showed up and when the simulations started shooting at us, yeah. Are we preparing for a fight?''

The simulations were mapped out pretty similar to one another. Usually it was a high level of underground resistance, mostly bunkers – and it usually tested your ability to find your way through dark tunnels.

He sighed. It was weird, really. Never in the history of the academy or training for peacekeepers had the simulation or training ever prepared them for resistance. Sure, people tried to use their weak fists for defence, but never weapons. Where would the weapons come from? Why would the districts suddenly revolt against peacekeepers?

''I find that I just keep coming back to the same question in my head over and over again.''

Dagger who had mindlessly been toying around with the watch hanging around his wrist glances over at his friend. ''And what question is what exactly?'' he pushed, although he never really cared. Jace was his best friend, but sometimes he was just talking shit about stuff that didn't matter. Just bullshit, really.

He watched as his friend stayed silent for about minute before meeting the glare. ''We're the good guys… right?''

The tall, black haired guy huffed. ''Yeah, 'course we are,'' he shrugged.

''You don't sound so sure of yourself,'' Jace challenged. But by only looking at Dagger, he understood the conversation was over. He should've known; he had tried talking about this stuff countless of times before - but every time it was always the same reaction. Even Mace had tried to talk with Dagger, but he wouldn't even consider it.

It was always the _''Shut up, Iren.'' _or_ ''You're hopeless.''_

The conversation died and the idea that was still vibrating in Jace's head – all until Dagger started laughing, suddenly reminded on how childish their mutual friend Mace had acted yesterday. They were never really close, but they were still considered friends.

''_Supposedly_, Mace wants a black eye,'' he shares the information, only making Jace rolls his eyes. Dagger thinks back at the scenery in which they both were making their way out school. She had been groaning, muttering something about wanting proof that she's been hit. He didn't even ask where she was getting all of this from – but even if he quite frankly didn't care, she kept answering unspoken questions. Both of them knew each other perfectly well. Mace was idiotic enough to believe she was in love with Dagger, all leading to that Dagger's knowledge of this only made him disgusted. Mace was aware of his thoughts about her, but despite this she kept on trying and despite his doubt he kept talking to her in school.

It was messed up and it wasn't going anywhere.

''I still think we should stay away from her, man. _She freaks me out_,'' Jace laughed, pulling his jacket closer to his body as he felt the small drizzle grow heavier for each second passing by. ''Maybe you could write her a letter?'' he continued. ''_Dear Ma_-''

Dagger was close to telling Jace to shut the fuck up, but decided to just ignore whatever Jace was about to say and just tune out the sound. Instead, he quickened his pace and kept his glance forward, staring at the road in front of them. The rain wasn't bothering him at all. In fact, he was feeling like the weather. Umbrellas take up battle spots but the nature's fury always proves much stronger.

He felt like swapping into little pieces, breaking like a grenade and scattering and piercing though people's weak chests and break hearts.

There wasn't much he felt like he needed. He was solid. The only thing he could really think of was blood. The reaping was closing up and it only made him feel eager and determined to win. And then, when he would go back home he would get a proper house

''Are you going to volunteer?''

He would not have asked if there wasn't a possibility for Jace to volunteer this year. He was one of the top four in training. Although Jace was very focused on going out on the peacekeeper force out in the districts, Dagger could not know for sure.

One year ago, Jace would've said no.

That was all until he saw how much the districts needed him. There was unbalance out in the districts and he was going to fix that. The question was tempting. You would be lying if you would deny a dream of victory in District 2. You dream about it ever since your birth.

''I wouldn't mind taking the title,'' he finally nodded, glancing over at a couple passing them. Dagger on the other hand was glaring holes down at Jace_. Why? Where did it come from?_

''Yeah - I could be a Victor.''

In those words, he had been confronted by the embodiment of he had ever aspired to be, and the reality of what he would never become. There was no epiphany. No sign from anywhere, no one to point him in the right direction like there had been in all the books that he had loved growing up to.

Jace volunteering? Dagger would have to fight him and win.

For the first time he saw a world that was bigger than the one he'd been born into… and he wanted _more_. He wanted to become a Victor, but he had no idea what the word really meant. He knew the life he wanted. He knew what he had to do to get it. He was going to volunteer, and if anyone were to stop him, he would force his way up to that podium and push whoever tried to steal the title from him.

The night before the reaping are the nights Dagger sleeps the best. Although this time it takes him one extra hour to fall asleep.

He sits on his bed in his room, staring at the slacks and the black shirt hanging on his door – all pressed and ready for tomorrow. The shutters and shades were drawn. There was noise from outside.

His mind paints up an image of himself being crowned as a victor, and even though it feels so real he couldn't help but be so damn sure he had already been there before, sometimes earlier in another dream of his.

The night before the reaping he slept with the lights on. He was going somewhere dark, but there was no fear.

* * *

**DISTRICT 2 -  
Katherine Jansen Thorn, 15**

* * *

She heard screaming when she got home. This wasn't anything she wasn't used to, all except for the small fact that it was his younger brother Kain who was yelling his lunges out. ''No, no, look, she's low but we could just cheer her up again, no big deal!''

''Oh come on, how old are you? We have to-'' someone, probably Kalli started, but she was almost instantly interrupted again. All of this was very confusing for Katherine, who was now standing frozen outside the front door, taking the conversation in.

Why was her older sister and her younger brother arguing about her? Sure, it was a common misconception in the family getting frustrated over Katherine's silence, but there was nothing that would cause Kain to make a big deal out of it.

He never took things seriously, so why would he now?

Katherine lived by the metaphor that silence is the loudest scream. She just preferred to state mute. Not only did everything about her become a secret, but she formed a very big mystery bubble around herself for everyone in the town.

''_Come on? _Piss off! She's staying!'' he shouted, making Katherine jump and get pulled back to the argument again and away from her rumbling thoughts. ''It's just a sponsored silence. There is literally nothing else to her. What are you even complaining about?''

''She's not staying. She is taking up too much room.''

''Taking up too much room? She's literally just like an Avox!''

And that's where Katherine had heard enough. She pushed herself away from the door, disgusted by her brother's words before sprinting out on the streets again. How dare a little shit kid like him call him that?

It was still raining and even though Katherine was already soaked wet, she decided to stay outside. Originally she had planned to go back home and stay there until the morning, preparing for the reaping, but she didn't feel like spending time around her siblings anytime soon.

Pulling her legs forward, she couldn't help but let her mind slip over to Anthony Stark. Oh, what a long story... She didn't like to think about him very much. Thoughts of him was already keeping her awake at nights, so she just felt frustrated whenever he popped into mind during the daytime.

Just like Katherine, he never really liked his name, and thus they both adapted names for eachother to make an easier sound to it. For a very long time, Tony and Kat spent hours and hours around midnight with each other, wandering the empty streets of the district.

Anthony did most of the talking – but he didn't mind.

She thought she was falling in love with him, but then he just left.

She thought about him a lot. She thought about how it wasn't fair that they weren't talking anymore. How unfair it was because she didn't have anything to fill that rotting hole in her chest with and maybe she could just cry herself to sleep and lay on broken promises that cut like knives because he was the only one holding her smile in place back then and he said he wanted to be next to her forever. _Damn it-_ She still wanted him to be but he wouldn't let her close enough to know if he gave a damn and she will just go to sleep knowing that he is in love with someone else's eyes and she wanted to slit their throat because he makes her sick… she felt like throwing up.

She was nothing to him anymore. Everything just wilted from the pain.

Without even realizing it, Katherine's running legs had stopped, and when she looked up, instantly getting droplets of rain fall into her face, she found her cheeks grow warm when she saw where she had ended up.

She never really wanted to go back to this place, but as if on autopilot, Kat entered the white house, not sure if she was desperate for the protection from the rain or if she was eager to see him again.

It didn't take as long as 1 minute until she was stopped. An old woman walked up to her, blocking Kat to walk any further down the hall. The lady looked tired. ''You have to stop coming here. He already left,'' she spoke to the young panting girl in front of her, lips stained red from a bottle of wine.

Truth be told, Katherine was relived. She was glad Anthony wasn't there to see her weak attempt for getting him back – because she certainly didn't want to have him back in her life. He had created a wall of mistrust in Katherine Jansen Thorn, and she wasn't going to let anyone in anytime soon. She was sure they would just crush her again.

He knew her before she could even figure out it herself.

Despite her liberation, Kat found herself annoyed over the old lady's attitude. It was working on a domino effect from her sibling's argument about her, but Kat couldn't help but feel frustrated. She wanted to hiss something at the lady, but found no need to. Her glare alone was strong enough to make the woman take two steps back, making a pained expression before clearing her throat.

''Right, well—go on then.. Out.''

Kat smirked at the now nervous lady, not acting so cocky anymore.

She swaggered out, still keeping a smirk on her small lips as she thought of her next destination. She knew the district inside out: all the small hidden niches and hiding spots. She took a shortcut through an dark alley, but she didn't mind.

Kat had both things to regret and be proud of.

She smoke to forget and drink to remember. She was in her own head, somewhere far away from even have to bother the fear of darkness. She felt rather calm as she walked rather tipsy down the narrow slum. She was slowly changing. And that's when she kiss every little ounce of pain goodbye.

Finally reaching the door to her friends house who she didn't even remember the name of she finds herself face to face with Taizer, one of the few names she actually remembered because it sounded so stupid.

He was shaking, looking strangely nervous – a state Kat rarely encountered within her circle of ''friends''. When he first noticed her presence he let out a small squeak, but relaxed when he saw who the shadow had turned out to be.

Crossing her arms, Kat raises one eyebrow at the guy as if asking him what he was on about. It was not very often that people could understand her expressions – the only two who even had a remotely small chance to was ignoring her.

But so, finally, after a confused stare, Taizer finally speaks.

''I messed up, Kat. I was out with Archety all of yesterday and today and… she's pissed. Really. I'm screwed…What am I going to tell Hixa about where I've been? I'm a terrible liar,'' he fumbled, trembling with his shaking hands as he did so.

Feeling rather sleepy, Kat didn't have enough energy to feel annoyed by Taizer. Not even his name. She simply just gave him a stern look, waiting for more information. But just as he was about to tell her more details, the door behind him opened and out of all possible alternatives, Hixa herself ran outside.

''Taizer is that you?''

Kat watched as her friend's eyes widened in horror before turning around to face his fiancée – instantly getting wrapped into a hug. ''I was so worried,'' Hixa continued. Kat took the opportunity to circle the couple, now standing behind Hixa and in view for Taizer.

''I'm fiiine,'' he tried to assure her, but she wasn't giving up anytime soon. ''Why didn't you tell me where you would go?'' Kat watched as the panic took over her friends body and he made a long hum on a long _Uuuhhmmm_. Rolling her eyes, Kat yawned – not very entertained so far.

She had only stayed behind to see Taizer screw up his engagement, but so far there was nothing.

''Uhm.. after I got off my shift last night I… decided to… clear my head.'' Katherine decided to help out, making her fingers illustrate walking. ''So… I went for a run in… in the park. So…'' Katherine was unable to see the angry glare Hixa was giving Taizer right now, but so did Taizer himself because he was all busy staring with begging eyes at Kat for further help in his short lie.

''I'm running and. I just… I heard something!'' At his point, Kat was close to face palming, but she found herself still. She found herself wrapped into the darkness around them. She felt almost invisible. ''Yeah..! In a tree. It was a…'' Once again, Kat jumps in, making bird wings with her hands, but apparently not good enough for Taizer's dumb head to understand.

''It was a cat..'' he stated, which he only realized sounded weird as he heard it himself, so he hurried to continue on with the fake story. ''A _hurt_ cat.. So I needed to see if it needed any medical attention, you know?''

At this point, Kat gave up and just shook her head in disappointment. That was it. Taizer Stapely was officially the dumbest person she knew so far. Hixa was sharing similar thoughts, although she was gritting her teeth while doing so.

She was having an inner debate whether not to do the cut it out sign but decided not to.

Taizer on the other hand hadn't realized his failure, so he kept on going. ''Then I realized…'' There was a long silence and he looked over at Kat for help, although she was not doing anything but just staring at him with her wide amber eyes, not to mention the glare his fiancée was giving him,

''It's a bear!''

Hixa made a fake gasp, punching a hand against her heart in shock. ''The cat was a bear!?''

Overjoyed by her reaction, still thinking she was believing him, the guy kept going. ''Yeah.. YEAH! The cat's a bear! It's a bear and…. it jumps right at me! And it attacks..! and its like.. it's angry at me for some reason… this bear…''

And as if he hadn't already stepped out of the line, Taizer Stapely decides to make an impression of a bear, making a loud raw as he holds his hands over his head as if to attack. Both of the couple keeps the acting, Hixa too making a terrified expression.

''Oh my, you were attacked by a bear!'' he exclaims. ''Yeah! And I..''

Kat desperately tried to stop any further embarrassment of her friend, moving her hand held straight with the palm down, moving horizontally across her own throat, trying warn her friend to just stop talking before he would get his ass kicked.

''I CUT OF IT'S HEAD! … Yeah babe, I decapitated the bear. Self defence.. in.. order to s-survive. I'm just glad you weren't there to see it. It was very brutal''

''… do you honestly expect me to believe this? You think I am an idiot? Is that what you think? How could you even try to-''

And by that, Kat thought that she had had enough and she simply just left the couple in their argument about lies and commitment. Katherine didn't want any kind of reminder of her fight with Anthony the day he decided to cut her loose.

If there was one day she was sure she would never forget, it would be that very day he left her broken.

* * *

**DISTRICT 2 -  
Dagger Steele, 18**

* * *

The summer rain is falling like it's never going to stop, and most kids standing in the cue for the reaping are groaning. Some punk next to me, probably 12, is gripping onto his raincoat to pull it over his head with a bitter look painted all over his face.

''It's been ages,'' he grumbles to himself, taking a step forward in the line.

_Idiot_.

Puddles were forming on the city corners and businessmen try to leap between the edges to get a good view from outside the reaping zone. Most people rush to their stations, eager to get on with the Games.

I caught a glimpse of Mace and I huffed, rolling my eyes at how ridiculous she looked. There was no surprise in that the Iren family were clowns, but this year they had styled their daughter like a doll, covering her with makeup, only making her look even uglier than usual. Damn.

Crunching my nose up in distress I turn away from the scenery, keeping my focus off to the sides where all the people considered adults were staying. Some were holding flowers, some were holding bottles of soda, ready to celebrate this years tributes.

The tributes of our district was always celebrated because we knew for a fact that we would only send the best of the best – the honourable soldiers.

This was one of the few times the whole district gathered in one place at the same time. Usually the children were working or going to school – if not training, the parents were working on the stone magnification and not to mention that the people of the district was separated into tiny parts instead of one town.

I knew about 10% off all of these people.

Standing tall with a hard look up towards the stage, I clenched my jaw, ready to do what I set out to do. I was battle born. Jace slipped in next to me and stood rather similar, although Jace was smiling.

''Ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad to be back-'' the escort beams down at the crowd, holding her designed umbrella over her long hair. I smile as I see her walk over towards the boys' bowl and I steady my ground – almost as if I was going to take a leap.

''And our male tribute from District 2… Jace Iren.''

There was a silence, then the crowd grew mad, cheering over the rain. Glancing over to my left, I see that he is still in shock, staring up at the escort in awe. It's like he's a statue; frozen. I on the other hand is in full control of my body – and I take action.

''I, Dagger Steele, volunteer as a tribute!'' I boom over the crowd, and though most people around me can hear me the first time and quiets down, I have to repeat myself again for the whole district to get the memo.

''I volunteer!''

Now there's even louder yelling and then the applauds starts going in sync with the pouring rain. ''Well even better, a _volunteer_ – come on up!'' the escort speaks into the microphone and I glady start making my way up..

That's when I feel someone grabbing onto my collar, pulling me back. ''You fucker!'' And suddenly, I am down on the ground – getting my head pressed down into the mud. My clothes were easily ruined within seconds, but that wasn't the biggest concern for the moment.

''You son of a bitch – **how dare you**\- I deserved that title!''

There was no doubt about it – Jace was the strongest out of the two of us, but it took more than how much you could lift to earn the title of a victor. He was younger by a few months, but pretty massive. He rarely fought and if he did, it was visionless. He never came up with anything new.

Jace was boring and predictable – but I, however, was ready for this.

Sure, I hadn't expected to have to fight my best friend, but it didn't matter now. I was going to be the years tribute from our district and I was going to come back as a victor. This was my last year and I was going to rule – even if I had to beat up my childhood friend for it.

As I realised all of this was going to be recorded and aired through out the whole Capitol, I decided that I better make this good. This was where my whole reputation started. I had to win this fight, or else I wouldn't get the status.

_Showtime.._

I aimed straight for solar plexus and kept smiling when I gathered all my power with the hit, forcing Jace's whole bodyweight to slam forwards. It was an odd feeling. It felt as if my fist went right through the guy and hit his spine through the soft, not yet flexed abdominal muscles.

Jace buckled away without a sound, paralysed not having any access for air nor breath. I took this opportunity to go right for the nose. I didn't hit perfectly the first time, but the second strike finally caused the blood to run. The nosebleed was important – _very important_. Not only did it impress and scare the crowd but more importantly, it scared Jace.

We stared at each other for a second, both glaring at each other with angry eyes as the rain grew even heavier. His eyes were wide, almost as if they could swallow up a dark hole. My heart collapsed beneath the spotlights, because I knew I would have to make him unconscious for this to work.

''I'm your bloody _friend_!'' he growled, but I only kept my lips pressed together into a tight line.

''_Was_ your friend,'' someone corrected as a joke, only causing Jace's half-decent punches throw even wilder around me.

The rain didn't bother me. It only made it better.

Not even seconds after, thanks to the rain, my already cleaned knuckle connected to his right eyebrow. That would be black eye, the stigma. That too, _very important_. It would be the burning reminder of my triumph.

By now, my opponent had fallen down to his knees. Now was the time to go in for a surprise punch when the fear was still locked in his veins. Lifting Jace's head with my left hand I throws back my right fist for greater effect to then smash it into the guy's skull, more specifically aiming at the other eye, but then I noticed it wasn't needed.

Nevertheless, I still let it fly – and drop his body down in the mud – feeling the roar of cheering growing around me again. The suspension was built up to the max. Rising an bloody fist up into the rain, I smile, because I just proved my title.

In the corner of my eye, I see a blonde girl rushing up to the body lying on in the mud. It didn't take long to recognize the ugly face belonging to his sister – Mace.

Jace lay breathless, lifeless, cold to the touch of her cheek. His sister ripped her dress as she pulled him away from me, clearing my path up to the escort. I nod at her before I confidently walk with rather stiff legs up to the stage, shaking hands with the escort.

''Well that was rather interesting,'' she raised her eyebrow at me, smiling – clearly impressed. Clearing her throat, now blushing at my glare, she turned back to the crowd. ''And now, for our female tribute!''

There was another volunteer. Katherine something..

They say that the perfect female tribute is as beautiful as the sun to attract sponsors, as gentle as the moon for compassion from the districts and as cold as the deep abyssal sea for the fear in the rival tributes eyes.

Katherine Jansen Thorn had shown none of those traits so far, and I didn't expect for her to do so either.

* * *

**DISTRICT 2 -  
Anthony Stark, 16**

* * *

I watched in fascination as Dagger Steele buried his fists into Jace Iren's flesh, making the guy let out the most gruesome grunts – some combined with the liquid glurg of the blood and rain blocking his throat.

I knew Dagger Steele from a few friends, but I never thought he would beat up his own friend for the place as a tribute. He could've just spared the guy weeks off medical attention and just let the peacekeepers deal with it – but no, of course not, he was too arrogant so he just had to do it himself, huh?

It was impressive, really.

And that's how Dagger Steele functioned.

See, one thing about Steele is that, for those that he cares about, he'll do just about anything. But he'll screw you three ways to Sunday if he doesn't.

And I thought we were done with the reaping by then. I mean, how much drama could you fit into one reaping? Well- turns out the one and only Katherine Jansen Thorn was volunteering. Still so foolish. She's only, what, 15?

Shit.

I should've stayed away from her, but things were different back then. Then as we all grew up shit got though, nothing was simple anymore.

She looks horrible in the rain.

Way too pale and too sharp cheekbones. I cross my arms. Maybe the Games will suit her? And when she come back, who knows? Maybe she wont be such a hopeless case who needs constant affirmation that she is doing okay.

It was exhausting to be around her the last few weeks. Bloody hell…

There was something beautiful about her though.. in some strange way. Not all girls get to be lovely, you know? Some, like Kat, were made so that they have blood in the cracks of their lips from biting them too much.. Some will never be funny and open, never tender.

You couldn't fix her. She was impossible.

Because people like Kat are so young inside. She's scared and so broken and so uncertain who her body is even holding because there's no way she have a soul any longer, not when her whole being can be stripped down easily into two or three words; bitter reminders of how simple everyone thinks she is: She's a whore, she's a bitch, she's a slut, she's too crazy, not crazy enough.

If anybody ever gets close to Kat, they never have to find out just how dark these waters get. Just how deep.

I learned to stay away from her. I learned that it wasn't any use. I learned that I never really loved her, like I had told her. I never loved her, I only felt pity for her. I thought I could fix her. I didn't give up on her – she was just never to be fixed. She will die this way and it wouldn't be my problem to fix.

Despite all of this, I still went to visit her.

When her family eventually left the room and I entered she was pissed. I could see it the second I opened the door. She was absolutely furious seeing me there, which was completely reasonable – taking it that I hadn't talked to her in months.

Ignoring her hate, she walked up to me and kissed me.

It was out of place and fake. No emotion. It wasn't anything like I remembered, but then again – none of what we had shared was really real. This time it was rough, unpassionated and she bit me. As I pushed her away, she exploded with fury.

''How could you just leave me like that? And now you're here? You bastard.'' She shook her head, not meeting my glance, still continuing on her useless rant. Because let's be realistic – it wasn't going to change anything.

I didn't care.

And then, as the peacekeepers opened the door and told me to leave, she stared at me with a blank expression. No hate. No disappointment. No broken or depressed feelings. No fear. Nothing. However, when she did speak, she spoke like a queen. Like she was my superior and that she could end my existence in a blink of an eye.

''When I leave, people will finally understand why storms are named after people,'' she hissed. ''I _will_ destroy things in the most beautiful way possible, you'll see.''

* * *

_**I am trying something differnt in District 10's chapter and I am very curious what you guys will think... I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far and that you're having a good day in general :) Not gonna lie; I've been spending most of this week eating cinnamon buns and drinking tea. Do you ever feel like sleeping or having a sweater weather day for like a month?**_

**1\. Thoughts on the tributes from District 2?**  
**2\. Any special/favourite part?  
3\. PREDICTIONS! **

_Until next time, MTABAS by M83_


	6. L1j0

**DISTRICT 10 –  
****Estrella Santiago, 16**

* * *

Estrella found herself sitting in the basement of the Justice Building, for the third night in a row, digging through the old parchments of files, written years ago when the games first started. Sometimes she used to imagine them being even older – but that was an impossible thing to imagine, taking it that pretty much everything from the time before the Games were utterly destroyed with the war.

Almost every single paper she had gone through so far had lost their relevance years ago, and she didn't quite understand why the people of her district bothered to keep them. Her father had not shown much care of it when she brought it up during dinner a few weeks ago, and as for his boss – the mayor, he probably didn't know the documents existed.

A 16-year-old girl, on the other hand, did.

It was her fathers secretary who had shown her the shelf, that just months ago had looked like a garbage can. Now, after hours spend sorting them out and labelling them, Estrella had made the shelf look somewhat decent.

Narrowing her eyes, the girl lifted the last paper of the bunch she had prepared for today, studying its content with tired eyes. Honestly she just wanted to go home – but she decided to stick through with it until she was done. She was also hoping that her dad would leave with her so that they could keep company on their way home.

**Subject**: Aaron Jr. Shaw  
**Description**: Peacekeeper missing in action.  
**Last seen**: West side of town, sent out to escort a citizen who tried to climb the wall. Assumed to be dead or being held hostage by the citizen, believed to be Miss Iero, a childhood friend of Shaw's. **Family**: Garard Arthur Way and Mr and Mrs Shaw. **Filed**: 2/26

This was the basic layout of a report. They never really told much, and most were just boring reports of recent victory tours and what not. Like any other teenager, Estrella's concentration span was limited, and if not worse when presented with boring data.

As the days went by, Estrella had found herself making up stories about the people she read about. She was not given very much information, but it wasn't a problem. She was a rather creative child – not only because of her parents constant push for her to do well in school and try to learn the piano, but because it was in her nature.

She was the loyal daughter with the grades just good enough to please the high standard her grandparents had set. She was the girl who kept her hair neat, who was polite to her elders, who didn't pick fights or went out after school or other duties.

She was the girl who kept an steady eye on her parents and the portraits hanging on the walls of their home. She was the girl who, occasionally, heard whispers of kindness on her way from school, although she never dared to approach the kids her age. Her whole day was already planned out.

The only one who wasn't giving her a hard time choosing her own path in life was her old neighbour, who just so happened to be the oldest lady in the district, which was fairly unusual. It was rare that a person survived more than 60 years.

''You need to stop alternating between loving and fearing life, dear,'' she had smiled down at the girl the night Estrella had came crying over some lost notes for her latest piano session. ''This polarization of the mind is not healthy; you're tearing apart at the seams without any knowledge or ability to pull yourself together. So here I am, telling you to let go.''

Estrella only understood half of what the old lady was trying to say, but the words had spread like a virus to the girls head and she was starting to draw conclusions. At first she didn't understand what she had meant by saying ''loving and fearing life'', because Estrella did not find it possible to do both at once.

It was only three days ago, when Estrella laid awake in bed that she understood that the lady was right – to some extent.. Estrella's mind was constantly buzzing and her whole being was restless, no matter how much her parents had planned out for her. Her body was deteriorating. Nothing was as it seemed to be 8 years ago when all the piano lessons had started, and it made her angry.

She had been fooled back then.

The 8-year-old Estrella had loved the pretty dresses her mother had dressed her in – and the piano lessons and the protective father and… And now everything was just taking over her life – almost pushing her out of it. She didn't have a say in anything anymore.

All Estrella wanted was just peace and quiet, if only for a day. To be able to not worry and just be happy is something she craves above all else at this point in my life. Freedom.

The Santiago family never struggled with money or food. They were well prepared with money and their home was one of the finest in the district. The only child of the family didn't have much to ask for – she was already given the best. But if there was something Estrella was missing, it was time.

Her whole future was planned out – and lately, the daughter of Link Santiago had began to realize just how little she had control over in her life. It was like it wasn't her life anymore. It was as if her parents were trying to push their dreams and ambitions all over on her, and it was exhausting. It felt as if something heavy was pressing down on her shoulders.

Mrs. Santiago just laughed when her daughter brought it up, lifting the girl's chin before stroking her cheek, telling her it was just because of her shyness that her shoulders felt so heavy. Then the mother had went on, sighing, muttering how beautiful her little girl's smile was, and how rare it was.

Estrella's mother was wrong though. Sure, the confidence wasn't strong with the girl, but it was only because it was locked inside of her. You, just like her parents, would expect it to fade as the anxiety with the girl only grew – but it was the other way around. As the quietness grew, the confidence only grew powerful. The only problem was it's imprisonment.

As the years had passed, it had only grown bigger and stronger – if not _louder_. What only used to be a faint whisper was now a loud roar, echoing through Estella's whole body and without even noticing it, her whole body had grown tense. As if ready to punch someone.

The screaming plea of breaking free of the cage her parents had trapped her in was the worse at nights. She spent most of her nights sleeping the exhaustion and stress off – but some nights she stayed up late just thinking.

Thinking of the people at school. Stressing over things she had to do the next day. Stressing over the new-

''There you are! I've been looking for you _everywhere_!'' a voice suddenly caused Estrella to jump, interrupting her thoughts. Looking up, she was met by curious two curious, green eyes. The height difference wasn't that big – even though Estrella was sitting down and the guest standing.

Arassi, who was only 9, beamed down at Estrella. She looked up to her, not to mention her hair. Arassi absolutely adored Estrella's black, shoulder long hair. And her dark brown eyes, even though the majority of the district had the same, boring brown colour. The hair, however, was in a unique shape, taking it that it was actually taken care of. Sometimes she even got to braid it, although she would always let it fall loose again the second she was done. The 9-year-old just enjoyed playing with it.

''Oh my, you scared me!'' Estrella gasped, forcing a smile.

The little girl didn't answer. Instead, she simple wrapped her own chubby hand around Estrella's and started pulling her away from the small desk she had been sitting at. Estrella was quick enough to flick the switch off as they left the room. She didn't even bother to ask where Arassi was taking her. She just obeyed – like she usually does.

* * *

**DISTRICT 10 –  
****Apofri Krisks, 10**

* * *

He hated birthdays.

''Go on, wish something!'' his father urged, squeezing his son's shoulder gently as he gave him a warm smile.

Apofri wished he could just stay a child forever, how immature and childish that ever may seem. He wanted to stay a child with big hopes, dreaming about a better future. He was determined that the future would be better than the past – because all he had heard so far about the past, it was just bad.

Petra, his older sister had brought home a history book back from school one day. When reading it, Apofri's curious and rather excited eyes had only grown disappointed. The past was just dark and filled with regret and war. That's why they called it the Dark Ages.

Although, thinking and ready about the past, he couldn't help but wonder what was good there was in growing older back then. Just like today, everything must've just gotten harder, more complicated and more difficult… right? Today it totally blew – with the exception of the family gathered in their busy time schedule working out at the farms, not to mention the cake..!

But mostly, Apofri decided to stick with the hate towards birthdays, and it was not because the new responsibilities he would get, but rather the obvious one. Apofri's birthday's only meant one year closer to 12 years old.

Petra, who was standing next to her little brother as he was blowing out the candle in the cake, was sharing similar thoughts. She wouldn't be surprised it every child in Panem shared the hate for birthdays.

She was turning 19 just three weeks after the reaping, and even though the chances of getting reaped were slim, she still had at least doubled her name in that bowl so that she could help bring food to the table.

Tesserae's were very common in District 10, and it was often the key for survival. Ironic how you were only raising the chances of entering the Games, isn't it?

Staring down at her brother, who was still not old enough to enter the reaping, Petra remembered being a little girl.

She remembered how simple it was back then and how simple Apofri must have it now. She remembered sitting in the kitchen window, staring out over the fields, watching the white and brown, and black blobs in the distance that you could just make out as cows if you squinted really hard.

The dress she had been wearing back then, almost every day, had been pink, of course. Now it had faded into something close to snow white. It had been such a symbol part of her childhood that she could remember every single detail about it. She remembered that the dress had seven frills.

Thinking back at the dress now, knowing much more than what she did as a child, she never fully understood how her mother managed to get a colour as impractical as pink to the farm. Father had never approved. He had just pursed his lips, frowning – though he never said anything.

The memory of the dress was important, but it was not dear to Petra. It was not valued or kept with her at all times like her other childhood memories. The one she valued the most was the time when her mother still used to laugh.

''Look at me!'' Petra had called up from the tree, located just in front of the house.

''Oh no, _Petra_! Get down from there!'' her father had begged, only getting the response ''But it's fun up here!'' And even though he had tried to hide it, Petra didn't miss the smile that was hiding on his lips as he walked off to get his wife.

''You're going to kill yourself!'' he shouted over his shoulder before walking into the house, only causing the little girl sitting up in the tree to giggle.

When Petra's mother would finally come out, the girl in the pink dress expected the mother to tell her to come down. The woman held one hand over he eyes to block out the sun, glancing up at her daughter in the tree while her free hand was resting on her round belly.

She was pregnant with Apofri back then, but despite the pregnancy, in some strange way, Mrs. Krisks managed to climb up the tree, joining her daughter as they stared out at the fields together.

Petra remembered the time she was just a little girl and when her mother used to laugh and kiss her husband before turning over towards Petra, picking her up and spinning her round and round until the world spun in bright, warm colours.

Petra misses being that little girl.

She missed being a child. She missed those days. She missed having a mother.

Petra too, just like her brother, hated birthdays.

* * *

**DISTRICT 10 –  
****Estrella Santiago, 16**

* * *

''He told me that he was in love with me, Ella.''

''And this shocks you because?'' After all, she had probably heard it countless of times already. So what was so different with this one in particular?

Francesca Almion's head shot up, her cerulean eyes wide as she stared right back at me, mouth slightly open. ''Oh, maybe it has something to do with the fact that it was Cinem! He's the shyest boy in school and all of a sudden he just walks up with me, confessing his undying love for me?''

I've never really been that interested in Francesca's life of high status and popularity – and even though we might be friends of sorts, it wasn't something anyone of us actually chose. Once again, my father had pushed us together since birth, just because he and Mrs. Almion were best friends back in school.

With a flick of her hand, Francesca pulls all of her blonde hair over her shoulder – probably trying to look flirty while doing it – but she was failing miserably. She just looked stupid.

''I mean, not that it would matter. His father is a _breeder_. I mean.. really? _Come on_.'' she laughed. ''Although I have to give it to him, I was completely caught off-guard.''

I was just about to make a point that Cinem's family was a very generous family and that they were one of the few who was actually treating everyone in the district with respect, no matter what you worked with or what your income was.

I was just about to interrupt Francesca – that was until I found myself come to a halt instead. Not as much as 30 meters away, a boy who could not be older than 10 struggled to keep his heavy backpack in place while carrying what I could only assume to be his sibling in his arms.

It was not very often when I actually found myself seeing a situation like this. Sure, I was fully aware of the large amount of children my age that had taken the tesserae several times, it was rare that I would actually see them out on the street. There were a few exceptions though. A small group from my school was sometimes seen trying to mess with the peacekeepers for some reason – and they always got in trouble for it, though they never really got caught with any evidence. It's just a matter of time though. Unless they forget about the whole act and go back to hiding again.

For some reason, most people who had a poor economy just stayed out of the streets – unless they were working, which, sadly enough, most of them were. The reason why they were hiding I still hadn't quite figured out yet. There was not a chance I would ever want that as a child. It shouldn't happen to anyone.

It made me feel a swell of gratefulness that I was actually having a good life so far, and it was all thanks to my mother and father. But then again – at the same time it triggered something in me. I felt like breaking norms that was set up for me.

I don't know why I did it – maybe it was just the hot sun that was making my head work improperly – but I found myself jog up to the little boy, poking his shoulder to make him turn around. It was only when his tired eyes met mine that I realised my mistake. Damn it –

''Uhm.. You need any help?''

He looked shocked, and somewhat taken back by my words. It looked like he was expecting something else. But then, as he was done analysing my words – probably debating wather I was being genuine or not, he smiled. And I smiled back.

And just as he was about to open his tiny mouth to say something, gasping sounds came from behind me.

''What are you doing?'' Francesca came running after me, finally catching up. She was right._ What was I doing?_ Trying to play a hero or something? Oh.. I don't know… But I just felt like helping him. I also felt like ignoring Francesca's comment.

''I'm Zevin,'' he mumbled.

Not being used to this kind of attention, I was feeling my cheeks being close to burn up from the blush that had spread like roses – and it only made me feel even more foolish. ''Estrella,'' I shook his hand, avoiding eyecontact.

It ended up with me, carrying the Zevin's backpack – as he and Francesca took turns carrying his little sister Meg. No words were spoken as we walked, and as I glanced over at Franscesca, a permanent frown was covering her features. She looked stiff – which wasn't something you saw everyday.

Zevin was acting similar. His lips were pressed into a tight line, but his posture was giving him a confident aura. He almost acted as if he had a big mirror glued to his chest – and that he was there to show it off to everyone.

''Well- thanks, I guess,'' he shrugged as our roads separated, and I waved goodbye. ''Good luck tomorrow!'' Franscesca shouted beside me, waving too. She surely only said it to be kind, but judging from the look of his face – it was probably not the right thing to say.

She didn't notice though. She just flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder again – acting as if Zevin hadn't even happened.

''So, back to Cinem. What do you think made him do it? I think it's because of the reaping, don't you agree? Something always happens around the reaping. Do you remember last year?''

This was about the time in which I had had enough of her ramblings, and I simply just nodded her off before separating from her. It wasn't even my street. I was walking in the complete different direction. It probably was not the best idea, taking it that I was part of the Merchants group in the district and most low-class weren't exactly happy to see me.

Despite the looks I got as I walked over the town square, I felt somewhat lighter.

I no longer needed to keep my jacket pulled tight against my body. I no longer needed to hang my head low or keep my mouth shut just so that Francesca could talk about who knows what for hours straight – thinking I was actually interested in what she had to say.

Maybe I should explain my attitude against her a little better. Some might think I don't like her – which certainly not is the case. She can be a very nice friend and she gladly shares her joy with me. It's rather the whole setup that is bothering me.

I don't mind being her friend – it's how it was all planned out that bugged me.

I just keep on wondering all these different kinds of _what if_. What if we hadn't been pushed together when we were kids? Would we still be friends? Would I have walked up to her in school? Or the other way around? What if my father wasn't working as a lead advisor for the mayor? Would he still be the same? What if I didn't have to take piano lessons? What could I have made with that time, that to me, only seems wasted.

What. If.

* * *

**DISTRICT 10  
****Amos Beavis, 22**

* * *

''Is my hair in place? Oh, my friend Carroll is having rain on her first game. Isn't that sad? Poor girl.. Oh well- How do I look?''

The escort gave me a smile, in which I just gave her a grumble for answer. She huffed, brushed her dress off before rushing off to the nearest bathroom. She looked rather pretty, but I was too annoyed to actually tell her so. Plus, I bet she could find a mirror somewhere in her big handbag.

This was my fifth time mentoring, taking it that I won 6 years ago. Honestly, the first year was horrible – but it was slowly getting better over the years dealing with all of this. First year was crucifying and I didn't get one hour of sleep.

Last year I slept through most of my tributes games. Babies don't sleep as well as I do.

''Mentors should be found on the stage by now!'' she shouted over her shoulder before she turned around the corner, and I sighed. I bet this was one of those days I communicate through sounds. Huffs, growls, sighs and what not…

Walking my way out to stage, I probably looked like a child, dragging my feet up to the chair that was set out for me and for Hazel. She was already sitting when I finally made my way up to the chair, and she rolled her eyes at me when I nudged her.

Hey- I was just checking.

I turned out to the crowd, just like she was – staring down at the children. I just saw potential misfortunes, but I knew that Hazel was trying to find potential victors. Or well- at least someone who could have a chance.

There wasn't really much more to do. We didn't have a say in this – even if the damage was right in front of us. Even though we would practically lead two of these children right to slaughter. I guess I wanted to apologize, but I should just accept the fact that things fall apart. Quite literally actually. Last year my tribute was ripped to pieces and actually scattered into pieces.

I made a promise least year that I would give these years tributes some time to understand the situation that was in control. They would probably not see the reality of the games at the start, but most kids usually gets it the second they see the arena. I'll try to pull the band-aid slow so that they wont have a panic attack or something. Ugh. That had already happened way to many times.

Man, I just hope they ask me questions this year. Last year they were pretty much mute.

As the escort started talking, Hazel leaned closer to my ear. ''I'm getting tired of losing, its time I control, got it?''

I huffed. Yeah right. As if she actually thought she could handle this on her own. She was 30 years older than me, doesn't that say something..? I mean _come on._

But hey – less work for me, so I just shrugged. ''Fine with me,'' I said, but leaned closer, lowering my voice. ''But down come crawling back to me when you screw up, grams,'' I hissed, smiling sweetly at her, only making her cross her arms in an annoyed matter.

Let's just say it's a love-hate relationship.

Off in the distance the fence was stretching around the district, keeping us safe from the dangers out there. I know, it might sound odd. When I was younger I was always wonder what was beyond the fence, but once I found myself outside of it I was surrounded by cameras and people trying to kill me.

I liked the symbolism of the fence. A barrier. Something that divided a group from itself. Fences were like visual representations of rules. It was order and structure and control. But then again, if there were anything I loved doing it would be jumping fences.

''I can work with that,'' I hear Hazel mumble beside me, I and I only figure we're done with the reaping. The two tributes shook hands, and just giving them a quick glance I came to the conclusion that I didn't know them from anywhere. Which was a good thing.

Standing up, I stretch my arms over my head before following the mayor inside. Yawning, I feel rather happy that the train will provide us with those energy drinks, or whatever the Capitol likes to call the beverage. Nevertheless, I needed it desperately.

And so, out of nowhere, the girl tribute grab the tall guy's arm, stopping him from going any further. It was only first now I noticed how angry she looked. Not gonna lie: I was somewhat surprised. She looked too cute to even have the time to be angry in a situation like this. You expected girls like her to cry, but apparently not.

The guy looked as taken back as I was, and even though he could've without any difficulties broken loose from her grip, he stayed put, staring down at her. ''I saw what you did,'' she muttered under her breath, taking a step closer to him.

''You're already sizing me up? How could you just do that? You don't know me.''

Even though she was clearly upset and furious over his behaviour, the girl wasn't yelling – which was rather interesting. I must've missed it, but apparently the boy was already trying to sort his opponents out.

Smart boy, huh? Who would've thought?

He doesn't say anything; neither does he get a chance to, because soon two peacekeepers take hold on each tribute. The boy and girl was lead to their rooms for their last goodbyes, and even though I was offered to go to the train right away with Hazel, I decided to stay and wait.

Leaning against the wall, I offer a smile to the escort who also stands waiting. I already made a deal with Hazel that she would welcome the tributes.. meaning that I get the chance to raid the delicacies … And guess who got first dibs on the capitol shower when we get to train, ha!

* * *

_**AN: Hey again. I hope you it wasn't too much of a pain to read through. I try not to post boring chapters. As you might have noticed, you got no information on the male tribute for this district. Some of you might not like it, but it's fine with the submitter and I thought it would spice some things up. In other words: Mark Foster is your wildcard. Ladies and gentlemen – feel free to answer the following questions before leaving.**_

**1\. Thoughts on the district.**  
**2\. Favorite pov?**  
**3\. Thoughts on the tributes?**  
**4\. Honestly though, what do you think about the wildcard?**

_Until next time, make sure to stay hydrated and eat your breakfast. (I don't even know..)_


End file.
